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“They dance before him 


{Page 93 .) 







Lalla Rookh 

I 

AN 

ORIENTAL ROMANCE 


BY 

Thomas Moore 


VIGNETTE EDITION. WITH ONE HUNDRED 
NEW ILLUSTRA TIONS 



OCT 2 1890 


NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
MDCCCXC 



Copyright, i8go, 

By FREDERICK A. STOKES & BROTHER. 
2d. COPY 

SUPPLIED FROM 
COPYRIGHT FILES 
JANUARY. 1f11. 



I 



TO 

SAMUEL ROGERS, Esq., 
Eastern JRonmnee 


IS INSCRIBED 

BY HIS VERY GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND. 

THOMAS MOORE. 


May 19, 1817. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Preface ix 

The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan ... 37 

Paradise' and the Peri 171 

The Fire-Worshippers 215 

The Light of the Haram 329 








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PREFACE. 


The Poem, or Romance, of Lalla Rookh, hav- 
ing now reached, I understand, its twentieth edition, 
a short account of the origin and progress of a work 
which has been hitherto so very fortunate in its 
course, may not be deemed, perhaps, superfluous or 
misplaced. 

It was about the year 1812 that, far more through 
the encouraging suggestions of friends than from 
any confident promptings of my own ambition, I 
conceived the design of writing a Poem upon some 
Oriental subject, and of those quarto dimensions 
which Scott’s successful publications in that form 
had then rendered the regular poetical standard. 
A negotiation on the subject was opened with the 
Messrs. Longman, in the same year ; but, from 
some causes which I cannot now recollect, led to no 
decisive result ; nor was it till a year or two after, 
that any further steps were taken in the matter, — 
their house being the only one, it is right to add, 
with which, from first to last, I held any communi- 
cation upon the subject. 

On this last occasion, Mr. Peri*)' kindly offered 
himself as my representative in the treaty; and. 


X 


Preface. 


what with the friendly, zeal of my negotiator on the 
one side, and the prompt and liberal spirit with 
which he was met on the other, there has seldom, I 
think, occurred any transaction in which Trade and 
Poesy have shone out so advantageously in each 
other’s eyes. The short discussion that then took 
place, between the two parties, may be comprised in 
a veiy few sentences. “ I am of opinion,” said Mr. 
Perry, — enforcing his view of the case by arguments 
which it is not for me to cite, — “ that Mr. Moore ought 
to receive for his Poem the largest price that has 
been given, in our day,' for such a work.” “ That 
was,” answered the Messrs. Longman, “ three thou- 
sand guineas.” “ Exactly so,” replied Mr. Perry, 
“ and no less a sum ought he to receive.” 

It was then objected, and very reasonably, on the 
part of the firm, that they had never yet seen a 
single line of the Poem ; and that a perusal of the 
work ought to be allowed to them, before they 
embarked so large a sum in the purchase. But, 
no ; — the romantic view which my friend. Perry, 
took of the matter, was, that this price should be 
given as a tribute to reputation already acquired, 
without any condition for a previous perusal of the 
new work. This high tone, I must confess, not a 
little startled and alarmed me ; but, to the honor 
and glory of Romance, — as well on the publishers’ 
side as the poet’s, — this ver}^ generous view of the 
transaction was, without any difficulty, acceded to, 
and the firm agreed, before we separated, that I was 
to receive three thousand guineas for my Poem. 


Preface. 


XI 


At the time of this agreement, but little of the 
work, as it stands at present, had yet been written. 
But the ready confidence in my success shown by 
others, made up for the deficiency of that requisite 
feeling, within myself ; while a strong desire not 
wholly to disappoint this “auguring hope,” became 
almost a substitute for inspiration. In the year 1815, 
therefore, having made some progress in my task, I 
wrote to report the state of the work to the Messrs. 
Longman, adding, that I was now most willing and 
ready, should they desire it, to submit the manu- 
script for their consideration. Their answer to this 
offer was as follows : — “ We are certainly impatient 
for the perusal of the Poem ; but solely for our grat- 
ification. Your sentiments are always honorable.”* 

I continued to pursue my task for another year, 
being likewise occasionally occupied with the Irish 
Melodies, two or three numbers of which made their 
appearance, during the period employed in writing 
Lalla Rookh. At length, in the year 1816, I found 
my work sufficiently advanced to be placed in the 
hands of the publishers. But the state of distress 
to which England was reduced, in that dismal year, 
by the exhausting effects of the series of wars she 
had just then concluded, and the general embarrass- 
ment of all classes, both agricultural and commer- 
cial, rendered it a juncture the least favorable that 
could well be conceived for the first launch into 
print of so light and costly a venture as Lalla Rookh. 
Feeling conscious, therefore, that, under such cir- 
* April 10, 1815. 


Preface, 


xii 


cumstances, I should act but honestly in putting it 
in the power of the Messrs. Longman to reconsider 
the terms of their engagement with me, — leaving 
them free to postpone, modify, or even, should such 
be their wish, relinquish it altogether, I wrote them 
a letter to that effect, and received the following 
answer : — “ We shall be most happy in the pleasure 
of seeing you in February, We agree with you, 
indeed, that the times are most inauspicious for 
‘ poetr)' and thousands ; ’ but we believe that your 
poetry would do more than that of any other living 
poet at the present moment.”* 

The length of time I employed in writing the few 
stories strung together in Lalla Rookh will appear, 
to some persons, much more than was necessary for 
the production of such easy and “ light o’ love ” fic- 
tions. But, besides that I have been, at all times, a 
far more slow and painstaking workman than would 
ever be guessed, I fear, from the result, I felt that, 
in this instance, I had taken upon myself a more 
than ordinary responsibility, from the immense stake 
risked by others on my chance of success. For a 
long time, therefore, after the agreement had been 
concluded, though generally at work with a view to 
this task, I made but very little real progress in it ; 
and 1 have still by me the beginnings of several 
stories, continued, some of them to the length of 
three or four hundred lines, which, after in vain 
endeavoring to mould them into shape, I threw aside, 
like the tale of Cambuscan, “ left half-told.” One 


* November 9, i8i6. 


Preface. 


Kill 


of these stories, entitled The Peri’s Daughter, was 
meant to relate the loves of a nymph of this aerial 
extraction with a youth of mortal race, the rightful 
Prince of Ormuz, who had been, from his infancy, 
brought up, in seclusion, on the banks of the river 
Amou, by an aged guardian named Mohassan. The 
story opens with the first meeting of these destined 
lovers, then in their childhood ; the Peri having 
wafted her daughter to this holy retreat, in a bright, 
enchanted boat, whose first appearance is thus 
described : — 


* * * * * * 

For, down the sih'ery tide afar, 

There came a boat, as swift and bright 
As shines, in heaven, some pilgrim-star. 
That leaves its own high home, at night. 

To shoot to distant shrines of light. 

“ It comes, it comes,” young Orian cries. 
And panting to Mohassan flies. 

Then down upon the flowery grass 
Reclines to see the vision pass ; 

With partly joy and partly fear. 

To find its wondrous light so near, 

And hiding oft his dazzled eyes 
Among the flowers on which he lies. 

****** 

Within the boat a baby slept, 

Like a young pearl within its shell ; 

While one, who seemed of riper years 
But not of earth, or earth-like spheres. 
Her watch beside the slumberer kept ; 
Gracefully waving, in her hand. 

The feathers of some holy bird. 

With which, from time to time, she stirred 


XIV 


Preface. 


The fragrant air, and coolly fanned 
The baby’s brow, or brushed away 
The butterflies that, bright and blue 
As on the mountains of Malay, 

Around the sleeping infant flew. 

And now the fairy boat hath stopped 
Beside the bank, — the nymph has dropped 
Her golden anchor in the stream ; 

***** * 

A song is sung by the Peri in approaching, of 
which the following forms a part : — 

My child she is but half divine ; 

Her father sleeps in the Caspian water ; 

Sea-weeds twine 
His funeral shrine. 

But he lives again in the Peri’s daughter. 

Fain would I fly from mortal sight 
To my own sweet bowers of Peristan ; 

But there, the flowers are all too bright 
For the eyes of a baby born of man. 

On flowers of earth her feet must tread ; 

So hither my light-winged bark hath brought her ; 
Stranger, spread 
Thy leafiest bed. 

To rest the wandering Perl’s daughter. 

In another of these inchoate fragments, a proud 
female saint, named Banou, plays a principal part ; 
and her progress through the streets of Cufa, on the 
night of a great illuminated festival, I hnd thus de- 
scribed : — 

It was a scene of mirth that drew 
A smile from ev’n the Saint Banou, 

As, through the hushed, admiring throng. 

She went with stately steps along, 

And counted o’er, that all might see, 

The rubies of her rosary. 


Preface. 


XV 


But none might see the worldly smile 
That lurked beneath her veil, the while : — 

Alla forbid ! for, who would wait 
Her blessing at the temple’s gate, — 

What holy man would ever run 
To kiss the ground she knelt upon, 

If once, by luckless chance, he knew 
She looked and smiled as others do. 

Her hands were joined, and from each wrist 
By threads of pearl and golden twist 
Hung relics of the saints of yore, 

And scraps of talismanic lore, — 

Charms for the old, the sick, the frail, 

Some made for use, and all for sale. 

On either side, the crowd withdrew. 

To let the Saint pass proudly through ; 

While turbaned heads, of every hue. 

Green, white, and crimson, bowed around, 

And gay tiaras touched the ground, — 

As tulip-bells, when o’er their beds 
The musk-wind passes, bend their heads. 

Nay, some there were, among the crowd 
Of Moslem heads that round her bowed, 

So filled with zeal, by many a draught 
Of Shiraz wine profanely quaffed, 

That, sinking low in reverence then. 

They never rose till morn again. 

There are yet two more of these unfinished 
sketches, one of which extends to a much greater 
length than I was aware of ; and, as far as I can 
judge from a hasty renewal of my acquaintance 
with it, is not incapable of being yet turned to ac- 
count. 

In only one of these unfinished sketches, the tale 
of The Peri’s Daughter, had I yet ventured to invoke 
that most home-felt of all my inspirations, which 
has lent to the story of The Fire-worshippers its 


XVI 


Preface. 


main attraction and interest. That it was my inten- 
tion, in the concealed Prince of Ormuz, to shadow 
out some impersonation of this feeling, I take for 
granted from the prophetic words supposed to be 
addressed to him by his aged Guardian ; — 

Bright child of destiny ! even now 
I read the promise on that brow, 

That tyrants shall no more defile 
The glories of the Green Sea Isle, 

But Ormuz shall again be free, 

And hail her native Lord in thee ! 

In none of the other fragments do I find any 
trace of this sort of feeling, either in the subject or 
the personages of the intended story ; and this was 
the reason, doubtless, though hardly known, at the 
time, to myself, that, finding my subjects so slow 
in kindling my own sympathies, I began to despair 
of their ever touching the hearts of others ; and felt 
often inclined to say, 

“ Oh no, I have no voice or hand 
For such a song, in such a land.” 

Had this series of disheartening experiments been 
carried on much further, I must have thrown aside 
the work in despair. But, at last, fortunately, as it 
proved, the thought occurred to me of founding a 
story on the fierce struggle so long maintained be- 
tween the Ghebers.* or ancient Fire-worshippers of 


* Voltaire, in his tragedy of ” Les Guebres,” written with a sim- 
ilar under-current of meaning, was accused of having transformed 
his Fire-worshippers into Jansenists: — ” Quelques figuristes,” he 
says, ‘‘pretendent que les Guebres sont les Jansenistes.” 


Preface. 


xvii 


Persia, and their haughty Moslem masters. From 
that moment, a new and deep interest in my whole 
task took possession of me. The cause of toler- 
ance was again my inspiring theme ; and the spirit 
that had spoken in the melodies of Ireland soon 
found itself at home in the East. 

Having thus laid open the secrets of the workshop 
to account for the time expended in writing this 
work, I must also, in justice to my own industr)-', 
notice the pains I took in long and laboriously read- 
ing for it. To form a storehouse, as it were, of 
illustration purely Oriental, and so familiarize myself 
with its various treasures, that, as quick as Fancy 
required the aid of fact, in her spiritings, the mem- 
ory was ready, like another Ariel, at her “ strong 
bidding,” to furnish materials for the spell-work, — 
such was, for a long while, the sole object of my 
studies ; and whatever time and trouble this prepar- 
atory process may have cost me, the effects resulting 
from it, as far as the humble merit of truthfulness 
is concerned, have been such as to repay me more 
than sufficiently for my pains. I have not forgotten 
how great was my pleasure, when told by the late 
Sir James Mackintosh, that he was once asked by 

Colonel W s, the historian of British India, 

“ whether it was true that Moore had never been in 
the East.” “ Never,” answered Mackintosh. “Well, 

that shows me,” replied Colonel W s, “ that 

reading over D’Herbelot is as good as riding on the 
back of a camel.” 

I need hardly subjoin to this lively speech, that 


xviii Preface. 


although D’Herbelot’s valuable work was, of course, 
one of my manuals, I took the whole range of all 
such Oriental reading as was accessible to me ; and 
became, for the time, indeed, far more conversant 
with all relating to that distant region, than I have 
ever been with the scenery, productions, or modes of 
life of any of those countries lying most within my 
reach. We know that D’Anville, though never in 
his life out of Paris, was able to correct a number 
of errors in a plan of the Troad taken by De Choi- 
seul, on the spot ; and, for my own very different, as 
well as far inferior, purposes, the knowledge I had 
thus acquired of distant localities, seen only by me 
in my day-dreams, was no less ready and use- 
ful. 

An ample reward for all this painstaking has been 
found in such welcome tributes as I have just now 
cited ; nor can I deny myself the gratification of 
citing a few more of the same description. From 
another distinguished authority on Eastern subjects, 
the late Sir John Malcolm, I had myself the pleas- 
ure of hearing a similar opinion publicly expressed ; 
— that eminent person, in a speech spoken by him 
at a Literary Fund Dinner, having remarked, that 
together with those qualities of the poet which he 
much too partially assigned to me was combined 
also “ the truth of the historian.” 

Sir William Ouseley, another high authority, in 
giving his testimony to the same effect, thus notices 
an exception to the general accuracy for which he 
gives me credit : — “ Dazzled by the beauties of this 


Preface. 


XIX 


composition,* few readers can perceive, and none 
surely can regret, that the poet, in his magnificent 
catastrophe, has forgotten, or boldly and most hap- 
pily violated, the precept of Zoroaster, above no- 
ticed, which held it impious to consume any portion 
of a human body by fire, especially by that which 
glowed upon their altars.” Having long lost, I fear, 
most of my Eastern learning, I can only cite, in de- 
fence of my catastrophe, an old Oriental tradition, 
which relates, that Nimrod, when Abraham refused, 
at his command, to worship the fire, ordered him to 
be thrown into the midst of the flames.f A prece- 
dent so ancient for this sort of use of the wor- 
shipped element, would appear, for all purposes at 
least of poetry, fully sufficient. 

In addition to these agreeable testimonies, I have 
also heard, and need hardly add, with some pride 
and pleasure, that parts of this work have been 
rendered into Persian, and have found their way to 
Ispahan. To this fact, as I am willing to think it, 
allusion is made in some lively verses, written many 
years since, by my friend, Mr. Luttrell : — 

“ I’m told, dear Moore, your lays are sung, 

(Can it be true, you lucky man ?) 

By moonlight, in the Persian tongue, 

Along the streets of Ispahan.” 

That some knowledge of the work may have 
really reached that region, appears not improbable 

* The Fire-worshippers. 

t Tradunt autem Hebraei hanc fabulam quod Abraham in ignem 
missus si quia ignem adorare noluit. — St. Hieron. in quasi, in 
Cenesim, 


XX 


Preface. 


from a passage in the Travels of Mr. Frazer, who 
says, that “ being delayed for some time at a town 
on the shores of the Caspian, he was lucky enough 
to be able to amuse himself with a copy of Lalla 
Rookh, which a Persian had lent him.” 

Of the description of Balbec, in “ Paradise and 
the Peri,” Mr. Came, in his Letters from the East, 
thus speaks : “ The description in Lalla Rookh of 
the plain and its ruins is exquisitely faithful. The 
minaret is on the declivity near at hand, and there 
wanted only the muezzin’s cry to break the silence.” 

I shall now tax my reader’s patience with but one 
more of these generous vouchers. Whatever of 
vanity there may be in citing such tributes, they 
show, at least, of what great value, even in poetrj^ is 
that prosaic quality, industry ; since, as the reader 
of the foregoing pages is now fully apprised, it was 
in a slow and laborious collection of small facts, 
that the first foundations of this fanciful Romance 
were laid. 

The friendly testimony I have just referred to, 
appeared, some years since, in the form in which I 
now give it, and, if I recollect right, in the Athe- 
naeum : — 

“ I embrace this opportunity of bearing my indi- 
vidual testimony (if it be of any value) to the extraor- 
dinary accuracy of Mr. Moore, in his topograph- 
ical, antiquarian, and characteristic details, whether 
of costume, manners, or less-changing monuments, 
both in his Lalla Rookh and in the Epicurean. It 
has been my fortune to read his Atlantic, Bermu- 


Preface. 


xxi 


dean, and American Odes and Epistles, in the coun- 
tries and among the people to which and to whom 
they related ; I enjoyed also the exquisite delight of 
reading his Lalla Rookh, in Persia itself : and I 
have perused the Epicurean, while all my recollec- 
tions of Egy’pt and its still existing wonders are as 
fresh as when I quitted the banks of the Nile for 
Arabia ; — I owe it therefore, as a debt of gratitude, 
(though the payment “is most inadequate,) for the 
great pleasure I have derived from his productions, 
to bear my humble testimony to their local fidelity. 

“J. S. B.” 

Among the incidents connected with this work, I 
must not omit to notice the splendid Divertissement, 
founded upon it, which was acted at the Chateau 
Royal of Berlin, during the visit of the Grand 
Duke Nicholas to that capital, in the year 1822. 
The different stories composing the work were rep- 
resented in Tableaux Vivants and songs ; and 
among the crowd of royal and noble personages 
engaged in the performances, I shall mention those 
only who represented the principal characters, and 
whom I find thus enumerated in the published ac- 
count of the Divertissement.* 

. ( Comte Haack, {MarCchal de 

‘ Fadladin, Grand-Nasir, ^ . 

I Cour.) 

Aliris, Roi de Bucharie, S. A. I. Le Grand Due. 

Lalla Roukh, S. A. /. La Grande Duchesse, 

* Lalla Roukh, Divertissement mele de Chants et de Danses, 
Berlin, 1822. The work contains a series of colored engravings, 
representing groups, processions, t&c., in different Oriental cps- 
tumes. 


xxii 


Preface. 


Aurungzeb, le Grand Mogol,.. 

Abdallah, Pfere d’Aliris, 

La Reine, son epouse, 


S. A. R. Le Prince Guil- 
laume., /rire du Roi. 

S, A. R. Le Due de Cumber 
land. 

S. A. R. La Princesse Louise 
Radzivill." 


Besides these and other leading personages, there 
were also brought into action, under the various 
denominations of Seigneurs et Dames de Bucharie, 
Dames de Cachemire, Seigneurs et Dames dansans 
k la Fete des Roses, &c., nearly 150 persons. 

Of the manner and style in which the Tableaux of 
the different stories are described in the work from 
which I cite, the following account of the perform- 
ance of Paradise and the Peri will afford some spec- 
imen : — 

“ La decoration representoit les portes brillantes 
du Paradis, entourees de nuages. Dans le premier 
tableau on voyoit la Peri, triste et desolee, couchee 
sur le seuil des portes ferm^es, et I'Ange de lumi^re 
qui lui adresse des consolations et des conseils. 
Le second represente le moment, ou la Peri, dans 
I’espoir que ce don lui ouvrira I’entree du Paradis 
recueille la derniere goutte de sang que vient de 
verser le jeune guerrier Indien 

“ La Peri et I’Ange de lumi^re repondoient pleine- 
ment k I’image et a I’idee qu’on est tente de se faire 
de ces deux individus, et I’impression qu’a faite gen- 
^ralement la suite des tableaux de cet episode 
delicat et interessant est loin de s’effacer de notre 
souvenir.” 

In this grand F^te, it appears, originated the 


Preface. 


xxiii 


translation of Lalla Rookh into German verse, by 
the Baron de la Motte Fouque; and the circum- 
stances which led him to undertake the task, are 
described by himself, in a Dedicatory Poem to the 
Empress of Russia, which he has prefixed to his 
translation. As soon as the performance, he tells 
us, had ended, Lalla Rookh (the Empress herself) 
exclaimed, with a sigh, “ Is it, then, all over ? are 
we now at the close of all that has given us so 
much delight? and lives there no poet who will 
impart to others, and to future times, some notion 
of the happiness we have enjoyed this evening?” 
On hearing this appeal, a Knight of Cashmere (who 
is no other than the poetical Baron himself) comes 
forward and promises to attempt to present to the 
world “ the Poem itself in the measure of the orig- 
inal — whereupon Lalla Rookh, it is added, ap- 
provingly smiled. 


1 



• .rx 


v» 












4 

V 



9 




t 




LALLA ROOKH. 


In the eleventh year of the reign of Aurungzebe, 
Abdalla, King of the Lesser Bncharia, a lineal de- 
scendant from the Great Zingis, having abdicated 
the throne in favor of his son, set out on a pilgrim- 
age to the Shrine of the Prophet ; and, passing into 
India through the delightful valley of Cashmere, 
rested for a short time at Delhi on his way. He 
was entertained by Aurungzebe in a style of mag- 
nificent hospitality, worthy alike of the visitor and 
the host, and was afterwards escorted with the same 
splendor to Surat, where he embarked for Arabia.* 
During the stay of the Royal Pilgrim at Delhi, a 
marriage was agreed upon between the Prince, his 
son, and the youngest daughter of the Emperor, 
Lalla Rookh ;t — a Princess described by the 
poets of her time as more beautiful than Leila,]: 


* These particulars of the visit of the King of Bucharia to Au- 
rungzebe are found in Dow's History of Hindostan, vol. iii. p. 
392. 

t Tulip cheek. • 

\ The mistress of Mejnoun, upon whose story so many Ro- 
mances in all the languages of the East are founded. 


26 


Lalla Rookh. 


Shirine,* Dewilde,t or any of those heroines whose 
names and loves embellish the songs of Persia and 
Hindostan. It was intended that the nuptials should 
be celebrated at Cashmere ; where the young King, 
as soon as the cares of empire would permit, was to 
meet, for the first time, his lovely bride, and, after 
a few months’ repose in that enchanting valley, 
conduct her over the snowy hills into Bucharia. 

The day of Lalla Rookh’s departure from Delhi 
was as splendid as sunshine and pageantry could 



From Delhi.” 


make it. The bazaars and baths were all covered 
with the richest tapestry ; hundreds of gilded barges 
upon the Jumna floated with their banners shining 
in the water ; while through the streets groups of 


* For the loves of this celebrated beauty with Khosrou and with 
Ferhad, see D' Herbelot, Gibbon^ Oriental Collections, &c. 

t “ The history of the loves of Dewilde and Chizer, the son of 
the Emperor Alla, is written in an elegant poem, by the noble 

Chusero,”— 


Lalla Rookh. 


27 


beautiful children went strewing the most delicious 
flowers around, as in that Persian festival called the 
Scattering of the Roses ;* till every part of the city 
was as fragrant as if a caravan of musk from Khoten 
had passed through it. The Princess, having taken 
leave of her kind father, who at parting hung a cor- 
nelian of Yemen round her neck, on which was in- 
scribed a verse from the Koran, and having sent a 
considerable present to the Fakirs, who kept up the 
Perpetual Lamp in her sister’s tomb, meekly ascend- 
ed the palankeen prepared for her ; and, while Au- 
rungzebe stood to take a last look from his balcony, 
the procession moved slowly on the road to Lahore. 

Seldom had the Eastern world seen a cavalcade 
so superb. From the gardens in the suburbs to the 
Imperial Palace, it was one unbroken line of splen- 
dor. The gallant appearance of the Rajahs and 
Mogul lords, distinguished by those insignia of the 
Emperor’s favor,t the feathers of the egret of Cash- 
mere, in their turbans, and the small silver-rimmed 

* Gul Reazee. 

t “ One mark of honor or knighthood bestowed by the Emperor 
is the permission to wear a small kettle-drum at the bows of their 
saddles which at first was invented for the training of hawks, and 
to call them to the lure, and| is worn in the field by all sportsmen 
to that end ” — Fryer's Travels. 

“ Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege must 
wear an ornament of jewels on the right side of the turban, sur- 
mounted by a high plume of the feathers of a kind of egret. This 
bird is found only in Cashmere, and the feathers are carefully col- 
lected for the King, who bestows them on his no\)\&!,."—Elphin- 
stone's Account of Caubul 


28 


Lalla Rookh. 



kettle-drums at the bows of 
their saddles ; — the costly 
armor of their cavaliers, 
who vied, on this occasion, 
with the guards of the great 
Keder Khan,* in the bright- 
ness of their silver battle- 
axes and the massiness of 
their maces of gold ; — the 
glittering of the gilt pine- 
apples t on the tops of the 
palankeens ; — the embroid- 
ered trappings of the ele- 
phants, bearing on their 
backs small turrets, in the shape of little an- 
tique temples, within which the Ladies of Lalla 
Rookh lay as it were enshrined ; — the rose-col- 
ored veils of the Princess’s own sumptuous litter, | 


* “ Khedar Khan, the Khakan, or King of Turquestan beyond 
the Gihon, (at the end of the eleventh century,) whenever he ap- 
peared abroad, was preceded by seven hundred horsemen with 
silver battle-axes, and was followed by an equal number bearing 
maces of gold. He was a great patron of poetry, and it was he who 
used to preside at public exercises of genius, with four basins of 
gold and silver by him to distribute among the poets who ex- 
celled .” — Richardson s Dissertation prefixed to his Dictionary 
+ “ The kubdeh, a large golden knob, generally in the shape of 
a pine-apple, on the top of the canopy over the litter or palan- 
quin.” — Scott's Notes on the Bahardanush. 

X In the Poem of Zohair, in the Moallakat, there is the following 
lively description of “ a company of maidens seated on camels.” 

“ They are mounted in carriages covered with costly awnings, 
and with rose-colored veils, the linings of which have the hue of 
crimson Andemwood. 


Lalla Rookh. 


29 


at the front of which a fair young female slave sat 
fanning her through the curtains, with feathers of 
the Argus pheasant’s wing ;* — and the lovely troop 
of Tartarian and Cashmerian maids of honor, whom 
the young King had sent to accompany his bride, and 
who rode on each side of the litter, upon small Ara- 
bian horses ; — all was brilliant, tasteful, and mag- 
nificent, and pleased even the critical and fastidious 
Fadladeen, Great Nazir or Chamberlain of the 
Haram, who was borne in his palankeen immediate- 
ly after the Princess, and considered himself not the 
least important personage of the pageant. 

Fadladeen was a judge of every thing, — from 
the pencilling of a Circassian’s eyelids to the deepest 
questions of science and literature ; from the mixture 
of a conserve of rose-leaves to the composition of an 
epic poem : and such influence had his opinion upon 
the various tastes of the day, that all the cooks and 
poets of Delhi stood in awe of him. His political 
conduct and opinions were founded upon that line of 
Sadi, — “ Should the Prince at noon-day say. It is 
night, declare that you behold the moon and 
stars.” — And his zeal for religion, of which Aurung- 
zebe was a munificent protector,t was about as dis- 

“ When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they sit forward 
on the saddle-cloth, with every mark of a voluptuous gayety. 

“ Now, when they have reached the brink of yon blue-gushing 
rivulet, they fix the poles of their tents like the Arab with, a settled 
mansion.” 

* See Bernier s description of the attendants on Raucharara- 
Begum in her progress to Cashmere. 

t This hypocritical Emperor would have made a worthy associ- 


30 


Lalla Rookh. 


interested as that of the goldsmith who fell in love 
with the diamond eyes of the idol of Jaghernaut.* 

During the first days of their journey, Lalla 
Rookh, who had passed all her life within the 
shadow of the Royal Gardens of Delhi,t found 
enough in the beauty of the scenery through which 
they passed to interest her mind, and delight her im- 
agination ; and when at evening, or in the heat of 
the day, they turned off from the high road to those 
retired and romantic places which had been selected 
for her encampments, sometimes on the banks of a 
small rivulet, as clear as the waters of the Lake of 
Pearl sometimes under the sacred shade of a 
Banyan tree, from which the view opened upon a 


ate of certain Holy Leagues. — “ He held the cloak of religion 
(says Dow) between his actions and the vulgar ; and impiously 
thanked the Divinity for a success which he owed to his own 
wickedness. W'hen he was murdering and persecuting his brothers 
and their families, he was building a magnificent mosque at Delhi, 
as an offering to God for his assistance to him in the civil wars. 
He acted as high priest at the consecration of this temple ; and 
made a practice of attending divine service there, in the humble 
dress of a Fakeer. But when he lifted one hand to the Divinity, 
he, with the other, signed warrants for the assassination of his re- 
lations.” — History of Hindostan, vol. iii. p. 335. See also the 
curious letter of Aurungzebe, given in the Oriental Collections, 
vol. i. p. 320. 

* ” The idol at Jaghernat has two fine diamonds for eyes. No 
goldsmith is suffered to enter the Pagoda, one having stolen one of 
these eyes, being locked up all night with the Idol.” — Tavernier. 

t See a description of these Royal Gardens in “ An Account of 
the present State of Delhi,” by Lieut. IV. Franklin. — Asiat. Re- 
search, vol. iv. p. 417. 

\ ” In the neighbqrhood is Notte Gill, or the Lake of Pearl, 


Lai la Rookh. 


31 


glade covered with antelopes ; and often in those 
hidden embowered spots, described by one from the 
Isles of the West,* as “places of melancholy, de- 
light, and safety, where all the company around was 
wild peacocks and turtle-doves — she felt a charm 
in these scenes, so lovely and so new to her, which, 
for a time, made her indifferent to every other 
amusement. But Lalla Rookh was young, and 
the young love variety ; nor could the conversation 
of her Ladies and the Great Chamberlain Fadla- 
DEEN, (the only persons, of course, admitted to her 
pavilion,) sufficiently enliven those many vacant 
hours, which were devoted neither to the pillow nor 
the palankeen. There was a little Persian slave who 
sung sweetly to the Vina, and who, now and then, 
lulled the Princess to sleep with the ancient ditties 
of her country, about the loves of Wamak and 
Ezra,t the fair-haired Zal and his mistress Rodah- 
ver,J not forgetting the combat of Rustam with the 

which receives this name from its pellucid water.” — Pennant' s 
Hindustan. 

“ Nasir Jung, encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of Tonoor, 
amused himself with sailing on that clear and beautiful water, and 
gave it the fanciful name of Motee Talah, ‘the Lake of Pearls.’ 
which it still retains.” — Wilks's South of India. 

* Sir Thomas Roe, Ambassador from James 1. to Jehanguire. 

t “ The romance Wemakweazra, written in Persian verse, which 
contains the loves of Wamak and Ezra, two celebrated lovers who 
lived before the time of Mahomet.” — Note on the Oriental Tales. 

X Their amour is recounted in the Shah-Nameh of Ferdousi ; 
and there is much beauty in the passage which describes the slaves 
of Rodahver sitting on the bank of the river and throwing flowers 
into the stream, in order to draw the attention of the young Hero 
who is encamped on the opposite side.— See Champion'' s translation. 


32 


Lalla RookJi. 


terrible White Demon.* At other times she was 
amused by those graceful dancing-girls of Delhi, who 
had been permitted by the Bramins of the Great 
Pagoda to attend her, much to the horror of the 
good Mussulman Fadladeen, who could see noth- 
ing graceful or agreeable in idolaters, and to whom 
the very tinkling of their golden anklets t was an 
abomination. 

But these and many other diversions were repeat- 
ed till they lost all their charm, and the nights and 
noon-days were beginning to move heavily, when, at 
length, it was recollected that, among the attendants 
sent by the bridegroom, was a young poet of Cash- 
mere, much celebrated throughout the Valley for his 


* Rustam is the Hercules of the Persians. For the particulars 
of his victory over the Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, see Ori- 
ental Collections, vol. ii. p. 45. — Near the city of Shirauz is an im- 
mense quadrangular monument, in commemoration of this combat, 
called the Kelaat-i-Deev Sepeed, or castle of the White Giant, 
which Father Angelo, in his Gazophilacium Persicum, p. 127, de- 
clares to have been the most memorable monument of antiquity 
which he had seen in Persia. — See Ouseley's Persian Miscellanies. 

t “ The women of the Idol, or dancing-girls of the Pagoda, have 
little golden bells, fastened to their feet, the soft, harmonious 
tinkling of which vibrates in unison with the exquisite melody of 
their voices.” — Maurice' s Indian Antiquities. 

” The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, have little 
golden bells fastened round their legs, neck, and elbows, to the 
sound of which they dance before the King. The Arabian prin- 
cesses wear golden rings on their fingers, to which little bells are 
suspended, as well as in the flowing tresses of their hair, that their 
superior rank may be known, and they themselves receive in pass- 
ing the homage due to them.”— See Cahnet's Dictionary, art. 
Bells. 


Lalla Rookh. 


33 


manner of reciting the Stories of the East, on whom 
his Royal Master had conferred the privilege of be- 
ing admitted to the pavilion of the Princess, that he 
might help to beguile the tediousness of the journey, 
by some of his most agreeable recitals. At the 
mention of a poet, Fadladeen elevated his critical 
eyebrows, and, having refreshed his faculties with a 
dose of that delicious opium* which is distilled from 
the black poppy of the Thebais, gave orders for the 
minstrel to be forthwith introduced into the presence. 

The Princess, who had once in her life seen a 
poet from behind the screens of gauze in her Fa- 
ther’s hall, and had conceived from that specimen no 
ver\" favorable ideas of the Caste, expected but lit- 
tle in this new exhibition to interest her — she felt 
inclined, however, to alter her opinion on the ver)' 
first appearance of Feramorz. He was a youth 
about Lalla Rookh’s own age, and graceful as 
that idol of women, Crishna,t — such as he appears 
to their young imaginations, heroic, beautiful, breath- 
ing music from his very eyes, and exalting the re- 
ligion of his worshippers into love. , His dress was 
simple, yet not without some marks of costliness ; 
and the Ladies of the Princess were not long in dis- 

* “ Abou-Tige, ville de la Thebaidc, oil il croit beaucoiip de 
pavot noir dont se fait le meilleur opium.” — D' Herbelot. 

tThe Indian Apollo.— “ He and the three Ramas are described 
as youths of perfect beauty ; and the princesses of Hindustan 
were all passionately in love with Chrishna, who continues to this 
hour the darling God of the Indian women.”— J/V IV. Jones, on 
the Gods of Greece, Italj% and India. 


34 


Lalla Rookh. 



covering that the cloth, which encircled his high 
Tartarian cap, was of the most delicate kind that 
the shawl-goats of Tibet supply.* Here and there, 
too, over his vest, which was confined by a flowered 


“The young Cashmerian held in his hand a kitar.” 

girdle of Kashan, hung strings of fine pearl, dispos- 
ed with an air of studied negligence ; — nor did the 

* See Turner's Embassy for a description of this animal, “ the 
most beautiful among the whole tribe of goats.” The material 
for the shawls (which is carried to Cashme> e) is found next the 
skin. 


Lalla Rookh. 


35 


exquisite embroidery of his sandals escape the ob- 
servation of these fair critics ; who, however they 
might give way to Fadladeen upon the unim- 
portant topics of religion and government, had the 
spirit of rriartyrs in every thing relating to such 
momentous matters as jewels and embroidery. 

For the purpose of relieving the pauses cf recita- 
tion by music, the young Cashmerian held in his 
hand a kitar; — such cts, in old times, the Aral) 
maids of the West used to listen to by moonlight 
in the gardens of the Alhambra — and, having pre- 
mised, with much humility, that the story he was 
about to relate was founded on the adventures of 
that Veiled Prophet of Khorassan,* who, in the 
year of the Hegira 163, created such alarm througli- 
out the Eastern Empire, made an obeisance to the 
Princess, and thus began : — 

* For the real history of this Impostor, whose original name 
was Hakem her Haschem, and who was called Mocanna from the 
veil of silver gauze (or, as others say, golden) which he always 
wore, see D' Herbelot. ^ 



3 6 Lai la Rookh. 



yy 


“The Great Mokanna. 







THE 


\ 

VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN.^ 


In that delightful province of the Sun, 

The first of Persian lands he shines upon, 

Where all the loveliest children of his beam. 
Flowerets and fruits, blush over every stream, f 
And, fairest of all streams, the Mu-RGA roves 
Among Merou’s:J: bright palaces and groves ; — 
There on that throne, to which the blind belief 
Of millions raised him, sat the Prophet-Chief, 

The Great Mokanna. O’er his features hung 
The Veil, the Silver Veil, which he had flung 
In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight 
His dazzling brow, till man could bear its light. 

For, far less luminous, his votaries said, 

Were ev’n the gleams, miraculously shed 
O’er Moussa’s§ cheek,|| when down the Mount he 
trod. 

All glowing from the presence of his God ! 

* Khorassan signifies, in the old Persian language. Province or 
Region of the Sun.— JV. Jones. 

t “ The fruits of Meru are finer than those of any other place ; 
and one cannot see in any other city such palaces with groves, and 
streams, and gardens .” — Ebn Haukafs Geography. 

X One of the royal cities of Khorassan. § Moses. 

D ‘‘ Ses disciples assuroient qu’il se couvroit le visage, pour ne pas 


38 


Lalla Rookh 


On either side, with ready hearts and hands, 

His chosen guard of bold Believers stands ; 

Young fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords. 
On points of faith, more eloquent than words ; 

And such their zeal, there’s not a youth with brand 
Uplifted there, but, at the Chief’s command, 

Would make his own devoted heart its sheath, 

And bless the lips that doomed so dear a death ! 

In hatred tojhe Caliph’s hue of night,* 

Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white ; 

Their weapons various — some equipped, for speed. 
With javelins of the light Kathaian reed ;t 
Or bows of buffalo horn and shining quivers 
Fill’d with the stems| that bloom on Iran’s 
rivers ;§ 

While some, for war’s more terrible attacks. 

Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe ; 


^blouir ceux qui I’approcholent par I’^clat de son visage comnie 
Moyse.” — D' Herbclot . 

* Black was the color adopted by the Caliphs of the House of 
Abbas, in their garments, turbans, and standards. — “ II faut re- 
marquer ici touchaiit les habits blancs des disciples de Hakem, 
que la couleur des habits, des coeffures et des 6tendarts des Kha- 
lifes Abassides etant la noire, ce chef de Rebelles ne pouvoit pas 
choisir une qui lui fut plus opposee.” — D' Herbelot. 

t “ Our dark javelins, exquisitely wrought of Khathaian reeds, 
slender and delicate.” — Poem of Amru. 

i Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians. 

§ The Persians call this plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft of 
Isfendiar, one of their ancient heroes, was made of it. — “ Nothing 
can he more beautiful than the appearance of this plant in flower 
during the rains on the banks of rivers, where it is usually inter- 
woven with a lovely twining asclepias .” — Sir IV. Jones., Botanical 
Observations on Select Indian Plants. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


39 


And as they wave aloft in morning’s beam • 

The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem 
Like a chenar-tree grove* when winter throws 
O’er all its tufted heads his feathering snows. 

Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold 
The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold. 

Aloft the Haram’s curtained galleries rise. 

Where through the silken net-work, glancing eyes. 
From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow 
Through autumn clouds, shine o’er the pomp be- 
low. — 

What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would 
dare 

To hint that aught but Heaven hath placed you 
there } 

Or that the loves of this light world could bind. 

In their gross chain, your Prophet’s soaring 
mind ? 

No — wrongful thought ! — commissioned from above 
To people Eden’s bowers with shapes of love, 
(Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes 
They wear on earth will serve in Paradise,) 

There to recline among Heaven’s native maids. 

And crown the’ Elect with bliss that never fades — 
Well hath the Prophet-Chief his bidding done ; 

And every beauteous race beneath the sun, 

* The Oriental plane. “ The chenar is a delightful tree ; its 
bole is of a fine white and smooth bark ; and its foliage, which 
grows in a tuft at the summit, is of a bright green."'— 

Travels. 


40 


Lalla Rookh. 


F rom those who kneel at Brahma’s burning founts,* * * § 
To the fresh nymphs bounding o’er Yemen’s 
mounts ; 

From Persia’s eyes of full and fawn-like ray, 

To the small, half-shut glances of Kathy ;t 
And Georgia’s bloom, and Azab’s darker smiles. 
And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles ; 

All, all are there ; — each Land its flower hath given. 
To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven ! 

But why this pageant now ? this armed array ? 
What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day 
With turbaned heads, of every hue and race. 
Bowing before that veiled and awful face. 

Like tulip-beds, J of different shape and dyes, 
Bending beneath the’ invisible West-wind’s sighs ! 
What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign. 
And blood to seal, as genuine and divine. 

What dazzling mimicry of God’s own power 
Hath the bold Prophet planned to grace this hour ? 

Not such the pageant now, though not less proud 
Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd. 

With silver bo\v, with belt of broidered crape. 

And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape,§ 

* The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittogong, esteemed 
as holy. — Turner. 

t China. 

X “ The name of tulip is said to be of Turkish extraction, and 
given to the flower on account of its resembling a turban.” — Beck- 
niantC s History of Inventions. 

§ The inhabitants of Bucharia wear a round cloth bonnet, shaped 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. ' 41 



So fiercely beautiful in form and eye, 
Like war’s wild planet in a summer sky ; 
That youth to-day, — a 
proselyte, worth hordes 
Of cooler spirits and less 
practised swords, — 

Is come to join, all bravery 
and belief, 


The creed and standard cf 
the heaven-sent Chief. 


Though few his years, 
the West already knows 
Young Azim’s fame; — 
beyond the Olympian 
snows 

Ere manhood darkened 
o’er his downy cheek, 
O’erwhelmed in fight and 
captive to the Greek,* 
He lingered there, till peace 
dissolved his chains ; — 

much after the Polish fashion, 
having a large fur border. They 
tie their kaftans about the middle 
with a girdle of a kind of silk 
crape, several times round the 
body .” — A ccoiint of Independent 
Tartary^ in Pinkerton’s Collec- 
tion. 

* In the war of the Caliph Ma- 
hadi against the Empress Irene, 
for an account of which vide Gib- 
bon^ V0I. X. 


“ Yon warrior youth. 


42 


Lalla Rookh. 


O, who could, even in bondage, tread the plains 
Of glorious Greece, nor feel his spirit rise 
Kindling within him ? who, with heart and eyes. 
Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see 
The shining foot-prints of her Deity, 

Nor feel those god-like breathings in the air. 

Which mutely told her spirit had been there ? 

Not he, that youthful warrior, — no, too well 
For his soul’s quiet worked the’ awakening spell, 
And now, returning to his own dear land. 

Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand. 
Haunt the young heart, — proud ,views of human- 
kind. 

Of men to Gods exalted and refined, — 

False views, like that horizon’s fair deceit. 

Where earth and heaven but seem, alas, to meet ! — 
Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was raised 
To right the nations, and beheld, emblazed 
On the white flag Mokanna’s host unfurled. 

Those words of sunshine, “ PTeedom to the World,” 
At once his faith, his sword, his soul obeyed 
The’ inspiring summons ; every chosen blade 
That fought beneath that banner’s sacred text 
Seemed doubly edged, for this world and the 
next ; 

And ne’er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind 
Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind. 

In virtue’s cause ; — never was soul inspired 
With liv^elier trust in what it most desired. 

Than his, the’ enthusiast there, who kneeling, pale 
With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassafi. 


43 


Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, 

Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free 
This fettered world from every bond and stain. 

And bring its primal glories back again ! 

Low as young AziM knelt, that motley crowd 
Of all earth’s nations sunk the knee and bowed, 
With shouts of “ Alla !” echoing long and loud ; 
While high in air, above the Prophet’s head, 
Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, 
Waved, like the wings of the white birds that fan 
The flying throne of star-taught SOLIMAN.^' 

Then thus he spoke: — “Stranger, though new' the 
frame 

“ Thy soul inhabits now. I’ve tracked its flame 
“ For many an age,t in every chance and change 
“ Of that existence, through whose varied range, — 

“ As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand, 
“ The flying youths transmit their shining brand, — 

* This wonderful Throne was called The Star of the Genii. 
For a full description of it, see the Fragment, trans'ated by Cap- 
tain Franklin, from a Persian MS. entitled “ The History of Jeru- 
salem,” Oriental Collections, vol. i. p 235. — When Soliman trav- 
elled, the Eastern writers say “ He had a carpet of green silk on 
which his throne was placed, being of a prodigious length and 
breadth, and sufficient for all his forces to stand upon, the men 
placing themselves on his right hand, and the spirits on his left ; 
and that when all were in order, the wind, at his command, took 
up the carpet, and transported it. with all that were upon it, 
wherever he pleased ; the army of birds at the same time flying 
over their heads, and forming a kind of canopy to shade them 
from the sun.” — Sale's Koran, vol. ii. p. 214, note. 

t The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines. — V'ide 
D’Herbelot. 


44 


Lalla Rookh, 


“ From frame to frame the unextinguished soul 
“ Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal ! 

“ Nor think ’tis only the gross Spirits, warmed 
“ With duskier fire and for earth’s medium formed, 

“ That run this course ; — Beings, the most di\ ine, 

“ Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. 

“ Such was the Essence that in Adam dwelt, 

“To which all Heaven, except the Proud One, 
knelt :* 

“ Such the refined Intelligence that glowed 
“In MoussA’st frame, — and, thence descending, 
flowed 

“ Thro’ many a Prophet’s breast ;l — in ISSA§ shone 
“ And in Mohammed burned ; till, hastening on, 

“ (As a bright river tjiat, from fall to fall 
“ In many a maze descending, bright through all, 

“ Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth 
past, 

“ In one full lake of light it rests at last,) 

* “ And when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, tliej- all 
worshipped him except Eblis, (Lucifer,) who refused.’’ — The 
Koran, chap. ii. 
t Moses. 

+ This is according to D’Herbelot’s account of the doctrines of 
Mokanna : — “ Sa doctrine etoit, que Dieu avoit pris une forme et 
figure humaine, depuis qu'il eut commande aux Anges d’adorer 
Adam, Ic premier des hommes. Qu’apres la mort d’Adam, Dieu 
etoit apparu sous la figure de plu^ieurs Prophetes, et autres grands 
hommes qu’il avoit choisis, jusqu’a ce qu’il prit celle d’Abu hlos- 
lem. Prince de Khorassan, lequel professoit I'erreur de la Tenas- 
sukhiah ou Metempsycose ; et qu’apres la mort de ce Prince, la 
Divinite etoit passee, et descendue en sa personne.” 

§ Jesus. 


Veiled Prophet of K/iorassan. 


45 


“ That Holy Spirit, settling calm and free 
“ From lapse or shadow, centres all in me !” 

Again, throughout the’ assembly, at these words. 
Thousands of voices rung : the warriors’ swords 
Were pointed up to heaven : a sudden wind 
In the’ open banners played, and from behind 
Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen 
The Haram’s loveliness, white hands were seen ' 
Waving embroidered scarves, whose motion gave 
A perfume forth — like those the Houris wave 
When beckoning to their bowers the’ immortal 
Brave. 

“ But these,” pursued the Chief, “ are truths sub- 
lime 

“ That claim a holier mood and calmer time 
“ Than earth allows us now ; — this sword must first 
“ The darkling prison-house of Mankind burst, 

“ Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in 
“ Her wakening daylight on a world of sin. 

“ But then, — celestial warriors, then, when all 
“ Earth’s shrines and thrones before our banner fall ; 
“ When the glad Slave shall at these feet lay down 
“ His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown, 

“ The Priest his book, the Conqueror his wreath, 

“ And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath 
“ Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze 
“ That whole dark pile of human mockeries ; — 

“ Then shall the reign of mind commence on earth, 
“ And starting fresh as from a second birth. 


46 


Lalla Rookh. 



Young wakriok, welcome !” 


“ Man, in the sun- 
shine of the 
world’s new 
spring, 

“ Shall walk transpar- 
ent, like some ho- 
ly thing ! 

“ Then, too, your 
Prophet from his 
angel brow 
“ Shall cast the Veil 
that hides its 
splendors now, 

“ And gladdened 
Earth shall, thro’ 
her wide expanse, 
“ Bask in the glories of 
this countenance ! 


“For thee, young warrior, welcome! — thou hast 
yet 

“ Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget, 

“ Ere the white war-plume o’er thy brow can wave ; — 
“ But, once my own, mine all till in the grave !” 


The pomp is at an end — the crowds are gone — 
Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone 
Of that deep voice, which thrilled like Alla’s own ! 
The Young all dazzled by the plumes and lances. 
The glittering throne, and Haram’s half-caught 
glances ; 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


47 


The Old deep pondering on the promised reign 
Of peace and truth ; and all the female train 
Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze 
A moment on that brow’s miraculous blaze ! 

But there was one, among the chosen maids. 
Who blushed behind the galler)’’s silken shades. 
One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day 
Has been like death ! — you saw her pale dismay. 
Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst 
Of exclamation from her lips, when first 
She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known. 
Silently kneeling at the Prophet’s throne. 

Ah Zelica ! there was a time, when bliss 
Shone o’er thy heart from every look of his ; 
When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air 
In which he dwelt, was thy soul’s fondest prayer ; 
When round him hung such a perpetual spell, 
Whate’er he did, none ever did so well. 

Too happy days ! when, if he touched a flower 
Or gem of thine, ’twas sacred from that hour ; 
When thou didst study him till every tone 
And gesture and dear look became thy own, — 
Thy voice like his, the changes of his face 
In thine reflected with still lovelier grace. 

Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught 
With twice the’ aerial sweetness it had brought ! 
Yet now he comes, — brighter than even he 
E’er beamed before, — but, ah! not bright 
thee. 


for 


48 


Lalla Rookh. 


No — dread, unlooked for, like a visitant 
From the’ other world, he comes as if to haunt 
Thy guilty soul with dreams of lost delight. 
Long lost to all but memory’s aching sight ; — 


‘When bliss shone o’er thy heart.” 



Sad dreams ! as when the Spirit of our Youth 
Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth 
And innocence once ours, and leads us back. 
In mournful mockery, o’er the shining track 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, 


49 


Of our young life, and points out every ray 
Of hope and peace we’ve lost upon the way ! 

Once happy pair ! — In proud Bokhara’s groves, 
Who had not heard of their first youthful loves ? 
Born by that ancient flood, which from its spring 
In the dark Mountains swiftly wandering, 

Enriched by every pilgrim brook that shines 
With relics from Bucharia’s ruby mines. 

And, lending to the CASPIAN half its strength. 

In the cold Lake of Eagles sinks at length ; — 
There, on the banks of that bright river born, 

The flowers, that hung above its wave at morn. 
Blessed not the waters, as they murmured by. 

With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh 
And virgin-glance of first affection cast 
Upon their youth’s smooth current, as it passed ! 
But war disturbed this vision, — far away 
From her fond eyes summoned to join the’ array 
Of Persia’s warriors on the hills of Thrace, 

The youth exchanged his sylvan dwelling-place 
For the rude tent and war-field’s deathful clash ; 
His Zelica’s sweet glances for the flash 
Of Grecian wild-fire, and Love’s gentle chains 
For bleeding bondage on Byzantium’s plains. 

Month after month, in widowhood of soul 
Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll 


* The Amoo, which rises in the Belur Tag, or dark Mountains, 
and running nearly from east to west, splits into two branches ; one 
'of which falls into the Caspian Sea, and the other into Aral Nahr, 
or the Lake of Eagles. 


50 


Lalla Rookh. 



' Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll.” 


Their suns 
away — but, 
ah, how 
cold a n 
dim 

Ev’n summer 
suns, when 
not beheld 
with him ! 
From time to 
time ill- 
omened ru- 
mors- came. 
Like spirit- 
tongu e s , 
muttering 
the sick 
man’s name 
Just ere he 
dies; — at 
length 
those sounds 
of dread 
Fell withering 
on her soul, 
“Azim is 


dead !” 

O Grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate 
First leaves the young heart lone and desolate 
In the wide world, without that only tie 
For which it loved to live or feared to die ; — 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


51 


Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne’er hath spoken 
Since the sad day its master-chord was broken ! 

Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such, 

Ev’n reason sunk, — blighted beneath its touch ; 

And though, ere long, her sanguine spirit rose 
Above the first dead pressure of its woes. 

Though health and bloom returned, the delicate 
chain 

Of thought, once tangled, never cleared again. 

Warm, lively, soft as in youth’s happiest day. 

The mind was still all there, but turned astray ; — 

A wandering bark, upon whose pathway shone 
All stars of heaven, except the guiding one ! 

Again she smiled, nay, much and brightly smiled. 

But ’twas a lustre, strange, unreal, wild ; 

And when she sung to her lute’s touching strain, 
’Twas like the notes, half ecstasy, half pain. 

The bulbul* utters, ere her soul depart. 

When, vanquished by some minstrel’s powerful art, 
She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke her 
heart ! 

Such was the mood in which that mission found 
Young Zelica, — that mission, which around 
The Eastern world, in every region blessed 
With woman’s smile, sought out its loveliest. 

To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes 

Which the Veiled Prophet destined for the skies ; — . 


* The nightingale. 


52 


Lalla Rookh. 



And such quick welcome as a spark receives 
Dropped on a bed of Autumn’s withered leaves, 

Did every tale of these enthusiasts find 
In the wild maiden’s sorrow-blighted mind. 

All fire at once the maddening zeal she caught ; — 
Elect of Paradise ! blest, rapturous thought ! 
Predestined bride, in Heaven’s eternal dome. 

Of some brave youth — ha ! durst they say “ of 
some?" 

No — of the one, one only object traced 
In her heart’s core too deep to be effaced ; 


*^That galaxy of lips and eyes.” 


53 


Li 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twined 
With every broken link of her lost mind ; 

Whose image lives, though Reason’s self be wrecked. 
Safe ’mid the ruins of her intellect ! 

Alas, poor Zelica ! it needed all 
The fantasy, which held thy mind in thrall 



To see in that gay Haram’s glowing maids 
A sainted colony for Eden’s shades ; 


54 


Lalla Rookh. 


Or dream that he, — of whose unholy flame 
Thou wert too soon the victim, — shining came 
From Paradise, to people its pure sphere 
With souls like thine, which he hath ruined here. 

No — had not reason’s light totally set. 

And left thee dark, thou hadst an amulet 
In the loved image, graven on thy heart. 

Which would have saved thee from the tempter’s art 
And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath. 

That purity, whose fading is love’s death ! — 

But lost, inflamed, — a restless zeal took place 
Of the mild virgin’s still and feminine grace. 

First of the Prophet’s favorites, proudly first 
In zeal and charms, — too well the’ Impostor nursed 
Her soul’s delirium, in whose active flame. 

Thus lighting up a young, luxuriant frame. 

He saw more potent sorceries to bind 
To his dark yoke the spirits of mankind. 

More subtle chains than hell itself e’er twined. 

No art was spared, no witchery ; — all the skill 
His demons taught him was employed to fill 
Her mind with gloom and ecstasy by turns — 

That gloom, through which Frenzy but fiercer burns ; 
That ecstasy, which from the depth of sadness 
Glares like the maniac’s moon, whose light is mad- 
ness ! 

’Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the sound 
Of poesy and music breathed around. 

Together picturing to her mind and ear 

The glories of that Heaven, her destined sphere. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


55 



Where all was 
pure, where 
every stain that 
lay 

Upon the spirit’s 
light should 
pass away. 

And, realizing 

more than “ ’Twas from a brilliant banquht.” 
youthful love 

E’er wished or dreamed, she should forever rove 
Through fields of fragrance by her Azim’s side. 

His own blessed, purified, eternal bride ! — 

’Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this 
He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss. 


56 


Lalla Rookh. 


To the dim charnel-house ; — through all its steams 
Of damp and death, led only by those gleams 
Which foul Corruption lights, as with design 
To show the gay and proud she too can shine — 
And, passing on through upright ranks of Dead, 
\Vhich to the maiden, doubly crazed by dread. 
Seemed, through the bluish death-light round them 
cast. 

To move their lips in mutterings as she passed — 
There, in that awful place, when each had quaffed 
And pledged in silence such a fearful draught. 

Such — O ! the look and taste of that red bowl 
Will haunt her till she dies — he bound her soul 
By a dark oath, in hell’s own language framed. 
Never, while earth his mystic presence claimed. 
While the blue arch of day hung o’er them both. 
Never, by that all-imprecating oath. 

In joy or sorrow from his side to sever. — 

She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, “ Never, 
never !” 

From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given 
To him and — she believed, lost maid ! — to Heaven ; 
Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflamed. 

How proud she stood, when in full Haram named 
The Priestess of the Faith ! — how flashed her eyes 
With light, alas ! that was not of the skies. 

When round, in trances, only less than hers. 

She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers. 
Well might Mokanna think that form alone 
Had spells enough to make the world his own : — 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


57 



Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit’s play 
Gave motion, mry as the dancing spray. 


“ There, in that awful place.” 


When from its stem the small bird wings away 
Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smiled, 


S8 


Lalla Rookh, 


The soul was lost ; and blushes, swift and wild 

As are the momentary meteors sent 

Across the’ uncalm, but beauteous firmament. 

And then her look — O ! where’s the heart so wise 
Could unbewildered meet those matchless eyes ? 
Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal. 

Like those of angels, just before their fall ; 

Now shadowed with the shames of earth — now 
crossed 

By glimpses cf the Heaven her heart had lost ; 

In every glance there broke, without control. 

The flashes of a bright but troubled soul. 

Where sensibility still wildly played. 

Like lightning, round the ruins it had made ‘ 

And such was now young Zelica — so changed 
From her who, some years since, delighted ranged 
The almond groves that shade Bokhara’s tide. 

All life and bliss, with AziM by her side ! 

So altered was she now, this festal day. 

When, ’mid the proud Divan’s dazzling array. 

The vision of that Youth whom she had loved, 

I lad wept as dead, before her breathed and moved ; — 
When — bright, she thought, as if from Eden’s 
track 

But half-way trodden, he had wandered back 
Again to earth, glistening with Eden’s light — 

Her beauteous AziM shone before her sight. 

O Reason ! who shall say what spells renew. 
When least we look for it, thy broken clew ! 


Veiled Prophet of Khor assail. 


59 


Through what small vistas o’er the darkened brain 
Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again ; 

And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win 
Unhoped-for entrance through some friend within. 
One clear idea, wakened in the breast 
By memory’s magic, lets in all the rest. 

Would it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee ! 

But though light came, it came but partially ; 
Enough to show the maze, in which thy sense 
Wandered about, — but not to guide it thence ; 
Enough to glimmer o’er the yawning wav'e, 

But not to point the harbor which might save. 
Hours of delight and peace, long left behind. 

With that dear form came rushing o’er her mind ; 
But O ! to think how deep her soul had gone 
In shame and falsehood since those moments shone ; 
And, then, her oath — there madness lay again, 

And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain 
Of mental darkness, as if blessed to flee 
From light, whose every glimpse was agony ! 

Yet, one relief this glance of former years 
Brought, mingled with its pain, — tears, floods of 
tears. 

Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills 
Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills. 

And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost. 

Through valleys where their flow had long been 
lost. 

Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame 
Trembled with horror, when the summons came 


6o 


Lalla Rook/i. 





(A summons proud and 
rare, which all but 
she, 

And she, till now, had 
heard with ecstasy,) 
To meet Mokanna at 
his place of prayer, 
A garden oratory, cool 
and fair. 

By the stream’s side, 
where still at close 
of day 

The Prophet of the Veil 
retired to pray ; 

Sometimes alone — but, oftener far, with 
one. 

One chosen nymph to share his orison. 


Wan and dejected.” 


Of late none found such favor in his 
sight 

As the young Priestess ; and though, 
since that night 

When the death-caverns echoed every 
tone 

Of the dire oath that made her all his own, 

The’ Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize. 

Had, more than once, thrown off -his soul’s disguise 
And uttered such unheavenly, monstrous things. 

As ev’n across the desperate wanderings 
Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out. 

Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt ; — 



Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


6r 


Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow. 

The thought, still haunting her, of that bright brow 
Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye concealed, 
Would soon, proud triumph ! be to her revealed, 

To her alone ; — and then the hope, most dear. 

Most wild of all, that her transgression here 
Was but a passage through earth’s grosser fire. 
From which the spirit would at last aspire, 

Ev’n purer than before, — as perfumes rise 
Thro’ fiame and smoke, most welcome to the skies — 
And that when Azim’s fond, divine embrace 
Should circle her in Heaven, no darkening trace 
Would on that bosom he once loved remain. 

But all be bright, be pure, be his again ! — 

These were the wildering dreams, whose cursed deceit 
Had chained her soul beneath the tempter’s feet. 
And made her think ev’n damning falsehood sweet. 
But now that Shape, which had appalled her view. 
That Semblance — O how terrible, if true ! — 

Which came across her frenzy’s full career 
With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe. 

As when, in northern seas, at midnight dark. 

An isle of ice encounters some swift bark. 

And, startling all its wretches from their sleep. 

By one cold impulse hurls them to the deep ; — 

So came that shock not frenzy’s self could bear. 
And waking up each long-lulled image there. 

But checked her headlong soul, to sink it in despair. 

Wan and dejected, through the evening dusk, 

She now went slowly to that small kiosk, 


62 


Lalla Rookh. 



“Upon his couch the veiled Mokanna lay.” 


Where, pondering alone his impious schemes, 
Mokanna waited her — too wrapped in dreams 
Of the fair-ripening future’s rich success. 

To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless. 

That sat upon his victim’s downcast brow. 

Or mark how slow her step, how altered now 
F rom the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound 
Came like a spirit’s o’er the’ unechoing ground, — 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 63 


From that wild Zelica, whose every glance 
Was thrilling fire, whose every' thought a trance ! 

Upon his couch the Veiled Mo K ANN a lay, 

While lamps around — not such as lend their ray, 
Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray 
In holy Koom,* or Mecca’s dim arcades, — 

But brilliant, soft, such lights as lovely maids 
Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow 
Upon his mystic Veil’s white glittering flow. 

Beside him, ’stead of beads and books of prayer, 
Which the world fondly thought he mused on 
there. 

Stood Vases, filled with KiSHMEE’st golden wine, 
And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine ; 

Of which his curtained lips full many a draught 
Took zealously, as if each drop they quaffed. 

Like Zemzem’s Spring of Holiness,^: had power 
To freshen the soul's virtues into flower ! 

And still he drank and pondered — nor could see 
The’ approaching maid, so deep his reverie ; 

At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which 
broke 

From Eblis at the Fall of Man, he spoke : — 

“ Yes, ye vile race, for hell’s amusement given, 

“ Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with Heaven , 

* The cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan are full of mosques, 
mausoleums, and sepulchres of the descendants of AH, the Saints 
of Persia. — Chardin. 

t An island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its white wine. 

X The miraculous well at Mecca ; so called, says Sale, from the 
murmuring of its waters. 


64 


Lalla -Rook/i. 


“ God’s images, forsooth ; — such gods as he 
“ Whom India serves, the monkey deity ;* — 

“Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay, 

“ To whom if Lucifer, as grandams say, 

“ Refused, though at the forfeit of Heaven’s light, 
“To bend in worship, LuciFER was right If — 

“ Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck 
“ Of your foul race, and without fear or check, 

“ Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame, 

“ My deep-felt, long-nursed loathing of man’s 
name ! — 

“ Soon at the head of myriads, blind and fierce 
“ As hooded falcons, through the universe 


* The god Hanriaman. — “Apes are in many parts of India 
highly venerated, out of respect to the god Hannaman, a deity 
partaking of the form of that race.” — Pennant's Hindostan. 

See a curious account, in Stephen's Persia, of a solemn embassy 
from some part of the Indies to Goa, when the Portuguese were 
there, offering vast treasures for the recovery of a monkey's 
tooth, which thej-- held in great veneration, and which had 
been taken away upon the conquest of the kingdom of Jafana- 
patan . 

+ This resolution of Eblis not to acknowledge the new creature, 
man, was, according to Mahometan tradition, thus adopted : — 
“ The earth (which God had selected for the materials of his work) 
was carried into Arabia to a place between Mecca and Tayef, 
where, being first kneaded by the angels, it was afterwards fash- 
ioned by God himself into a human form, and left to dry for the 
space of forty days, or, as others say, as many years ; the angels, 
in the mean time, often visiting it, and Eblis (then one of the 
angels nearest to God’s presence, afterwards the devil) among the 
rest ; but he, not contented with looking at it, kicked it with his 
foot till it rung ; and knowing Go<l designed that creature to be 
his superior, took a secret resolution never to acknowledge him as 
such.” — Sale^ on the Koran. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 65 


“ I’ll sweep my darkening, desolating way, 

“ Weak man my instrument, curs’d man my prey ! 

“Ye wise, ye learned, who grope your dull way on 
“ By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone, 

“ Like superstitious thieves, who think the light 
“From dead men’s marrow guides them best at 
night* — 

“Ye shall have honors — wealth, — yes. Sages, yes, — 
“ I know, grave fools, your wisdom’s nothingness ; 

“ Undazzled it can track yon stariy' sphere, 

“ But a gilt stick, a bawble blinds it here. 

“ How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, 

“ In lying speech, and still more lying song, 

“ By these learned slaves, the meanest of the throng ; 
“ Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so 
small, 

“ A sceptre’s puny point can wield it all ! 

“Ye too, believers of incredible creeds, 

“ Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds ; 
“ Who, bolder ev’n than Nemrod, think to rise, 

“ By nonsense heaped on nonsense, to the skies ; 
“Ye shall have miracles, ay, sound ones too, 

“ Seen, heard, attested, every thing, — but true. 
“Your preaching zealots, too inspired to seek 
“ One grace of meaning for the things they speak ; 


* A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the Hand 
of Glory, the candle for which was made of the fat of a dead male- 
factor. This, however, was rather a western than an eastern su- 
perstition. 


66 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood, 

“ For truths too heavenly to be understood ; 

“ And your State Priests, sole vendors of the lore, 

“ That works salvation ; — as, on Ava’s shore, 

“ Where none but priests are privileged to trade 
“ In that best marble of which Gods are made 
“ They shall have mysteries — ay, precious stuff 
“ For knaves to thrive by — mysteries enough ; 

“ Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave, 
“ Which simple votaries shall on trust receive, 

“ While craftier feign belief, till they believe. 

“ A Heaven too ye must have, ye lords of dust,— 

“ A splendid Paradise, — pure souls, ye must : 

“ That Prophet ill sustains his holy call, 

“ Who finds not heavens to suit the tastes of all ; 

“ Houris for boys, omniscience for sages. 

And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. 

“ Vain things !— as lust or vanity inspires, 

“ The Heaven of each is but what each desires, 

“ And, soul or sense, whate’er the object be, 

“ Man would be man to all eternity ! 

“ So let him — E blis ! grant this crowning curse, 

“ But keep him what he is, no Hell were worse.” 

“ O my lost soul !” exclaimed the shuddering maid. 
Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said ; — • 
Mokanna started — not abashed, afraid, — 

* The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman Deity) 
are made is held sacred. “ Birmans may not purchase the marble 
in mass, but are suffered, and indeed encouraged, to buy figures of 
the Deity ready made.”— Syines's Ava, vol. ii. p 376. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 67 


He knew no more of 
fear than one who 
dwells 

Beneath the tropics 
knows of icicles ! 

But, in those dismal 
words that reached 
his ear, 

“ O my lost soul !” there 
was a sound so 
drear. 

So like that voice, among 
the sinful dead. 

In which the legend ^ 

o’er Hell’s Gate is 

O MY LOST SOUL ! 

read. 

That, new as ’twas from her, whom nought could 
dim 

Or sink till now, it startled even him. 

“ Ha, my fair Priestess ! ” — thus, with ready wile. 
The’ Impostor turned to greet her — “ thou, whose 
smile 

“ Hath inspiration in its rosy beam 
“ Beyond the’ Enthusiast’s hope or Prophet’s dream ; 
“ Light of the Faith ! who twin’st religion’s zeal 
“ So close with love’s, men know not which they feel, 
“ Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart, 

“ The Heaven thou preachest or the heaven thou art ! 
“ What should I be without thee ? without thee 
“ How dull were power, how joyless victory ! 



68 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Though borne by angels, if that sjnile of thine 
“ Blessed not my banner, ’twere but half divine. 

“ But — why so mournful, child } those eyes, that 
shone 

“ All life last night — what ! — is their glory gone } 

“ Come, come — this morn’s fatigue hath made them 
pale, 

“ They want rekindling — suns themselves would fail 
“ Did not their comets bring, as I to thee, 

“ From light’s own fount supplies of brilliancy. 

“ Thou seest this cup — no juice of earth is here, 

“ But the pure waters of that upper sphere, 

“ Whose rills o’er ruby beds and topaz flow, 

“ Catching the gem’s bright color, as they go. 

“ Nightly my Genii come and fill these urns — 

“ Nay, drink — in every drop life’s essence burns ; 

“ ’Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all light — 
“ Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night : 
“ There is a youth — why start ? — thou saw’st him 
then ; 

“ Looked he not nobly } such the godlike men 
“ Thou ’It have to woo thee in the bowers above ; — 
“ Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love, 
“ Too ruled by that cold enemy of bliss 
“ The world calls virtue — we must conquer this ; 

“ Nay, shrink not, pretty sage ! ’tis not for thee 
“To scan the mazes of Heaven’s mystery. 

“ The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield 
“ Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield. 

“ This very night I mean to try the art 
“ Of powerful beauty on that warrior’s heart. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 69 


“ All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit, 

“ Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite, 

“ Shall tempt the boy ; — young MiRZ ala’s blue eyes, 
“ Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies ; 

“ Arouya’S cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun, 

“ And lips that, like the seal of SOLOMON, 

“ Have magic in their pressure ; Zeba’s lute, 

“ And Lilla’s dancing feet, that gleam and shoot 
“ Rapid and white as sea-birds o’er the deep — 

“ All shall combine their witching powers to steep 
“ My convert’s spirit in that softening trance, 

“ From which to Heaven is but the next advance ; — 
“ That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast, 

“ On which Religion stamps her image best. 

“But hear me. Priestess! — tho’ each nymph of 
these 

“ Hath some peculiar, practised power to please, 

“ Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried, 

“ First charms herself, then all the world beside ; 

“ There still wants one to make the victory sure, 

“ One who in every look joins every lure ; 

“ Through whom all beauty’s beams concentred 
pass, 

“ Dazzling and warm, as through love’s burning 
glass ; 

“ Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, 

“ Whose words, ev’n when unmeaning, are adored, 

“ Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine, 

“ Which our faith takes for granted are divine I 
“ Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light, 
“ To crown the rich temptations of to-night ; 


7o 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Such the refined enchantress that must be 
“ This hero’s vanquisher, — and thou art she ! ” 

With her hands clasped, her lips apart and pale, 
The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil 
P'rom which these words, like south winds through 
a fence 

Of Kerzrah flowers, came filled with pestilence ;* 

So boldly uttered too ! as if all dread 
Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled. 
And the wretch felt assured that, once plunged in. 
Her woman’s soul would know no pause in sin ! 

At first, though mute she listened, like a dream 
Seemed all he said : nor could her mind, whose 
beam 

As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. 

But when, at length, he uttered, “ Thou art she !” 
All flashed at once, and shrieking piteously, 

“ O, not for worlds !” she cried — “ Great God ! to 
whom 

“ I once knelt innocent, is this my doom ? 

“ Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bliss, 

“ My purity, my pride, then come to this, — 

“To live, the wanton of a fiend ! to be 
“ The pander of his guilt — O infamy ! 

“ And sunk, myself, asdow as hell can steep 
“ In its hot flood, drag others down as deep ! 

* “ It is commonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe in the 
hot south wind, which in June or July passes over that flower, 
(the Kerzereh,) it will kill — Thevenoty 


(I 

I 


I 





” Beware, yovm PAVivq thing !» 




72 


Lai la Rookh. 


“ Others — ha ! yes — that youth who came to-day — 

“ Not him I loved — not him — O ! do but say, 

“ But swear to me this moment ’tis not he, 

“ And I will serv'e, dark fiend, will worship even 
thee !” 

“ Beware, young raving thing ! — in time beware, 

“ Nor utter what 1 cannot, must not bear, 

“ Ev’n from thy lips. Go — try thy lute, thy voice ; 

“ The boy must feel their magic ; — I rejoice 
“To see those fires, no matter whence they rise, 

“ Once more illuming my fair Priestess’ eyes ; 

“ And should the youth, whom soon those eyes shall 
warm, 

“ Indeed resemble thy dead lover’s form, 

“ So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom, 

“ As one warm lover, full of life and bloom, 

“ Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb. • 

“ Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet ; — those eyes were 
made 

“ For love, not anger — I must be obeyed.” 

“ Obeyed ! — ’tis well — yes, I deserve it all — • 

“ On me, on me Heaven’s vengeance cannot fall 
“ Too heavily — but Azim, brave and true 
“ And beautiful — must he be ruined too ? 

“ Must he too, glorious as he is, be driven 
“ A renegade like me from Love and Heaven ? 

“ Like me ! — weak wretch, I wrong him — not like 
me ; 

“ No — he’s all truth and strength and purity ! 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


73 


“ Fill up your maddening hell-cup to the brim, 

“ Its witchery, fiends, will have no charm for him. 

“ Let loose your glowing wantons from their bowers, 
“ He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers ! 

“ Wretch as I am, in his heart still I reign 
“ Pure as when first we met, without a stain ! 

“ Though ruined — lost — my memory, like a charm 
“ Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm. 

“ O ! never let him know how deep the brow 
“ He kissed at parting is dishonored now ; — ■ 

“ Ne’er tell him how debased, how sunk is she, 

“ Whom once he loved — once ! — still loves dotingly. 
“Thou laugh’st, tormentor, — what! thou’lt brand 
my name } 

“ Do, do — in vain — he’ll not believe my shame — 

“ He thinks me true, that nought beneath God’s sky 
“ Could tempt or change me, and — so once thought 1. 
“ But this is past — though worse than death my lot, 
“ Than hell — ’tis nothing while he knows it not. 

“ Far off to some benighted land I’ll fly, 

“ Where sunbeam ne’er shall enter till I die ; 

“ Where none will ask the lost one whence she came, 
“ But I may fade and fall without a name. 

“ And thou— curs’d man or fiend, whate’er thou art, 
“ Who found’st this burning plague-spot in my 
heart, 

“ And spread’st it — O, so quick ! — through soul and 
frame, 

“ With more'than demon’s art, till I became 
“ A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame ! — 

“ If, when I’m gone ” 


74 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Hold, fearless maniac, hold, 
“ Nor tempt my rage — by Heaven, not half so bold 
“ The puny bird, that dares with teasing hum 
“ Within the crocodile’s stretched jaws to come !'^ 

“ And so thou’lt fly, forsooth ? — what !— give up all 
“ Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall, 

“ Where now to Love and now to Alla given, 

“ Half mistress and half saint, thou hang’st as even 
“ As doth Medina’s tomb, ’twixt hell and Heaven ! 
“ Thou’lt fly ? — as easily may reptiles run, 

“ The gaunt snake once hath fixed his eyes upon ; 

“ As easily, when caught, the prey may be 
“ Plucked from his loving folds, as thou from me. 

“ No, no, ’tis fixed — let good or ill betide, 

“ Thou’rt mine till death, till death MOK anna’s bride ! 
“ Hast thou forgot thy oath ?” — 

At this dread word. 

The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirred 
Through all its depths, and roused an anger there. 
That burst and lightened ev’n through her despair. 
Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath 
That spoke that word, and staggered pale as death.’ 

“ Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in bowers 
“ Their bridal place — the charnel vault was ours ! 


* The humming-bird is said to run this risk for the purpose of 
picking the crocodile’s teeth. The same circumstance is related 
of the lapwing, as a fact to which he was witness, by Paul Lucas^ 
Voyage fait en 1714. 

The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or humming-bird, 
entering with impunity into the mouth of the crocodile, is firmly 
believed at Java, Cochin-China, 


75 


Vet/ed Prophet of Khorassan. 



“ Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me 
“ Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality ; 

“Gay, flickering 
death-lights 
shone while we 
were wed, 

“And, for our 
guests, a row of 
goodly Dead 
“ (Immortal spirits 
in their time, no 
doubt) 

“From reeking 
shrouds upon 
the rite looked 

' “ Gay, flickering death-lights.” 

“ That oath thou 

heard ’st more lips than thine repeat- 
“ That cup — thou shudderest. Lady, — was it sweet ? 
“ That cup we pledged, the charnel’s choicest wine, 
“ Hath bound thee — ay — body and soul all mine ; 

“ Bound thee by chains that, whether bless’d or 
curs’d, 

“ No matter now, not hell itself shall burst ! 

“ Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay, 

“ Look wild, look — any thing but sad ; yet stay — 

“ One moment more — from what this night hath 
passed, 

“ I see thou know’st me, know’st me well at last. 

“ Ha ! ha ! and so. fond thing, thou thought’st all true, 
“ And that I love mankind ? — I do, I do— 


76 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ As victims love them ; as the sea-dog dotes 
“ Upon the small, sweet fry that round him floats ; 

“ Or, as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives 
“ That rank and venomous food on which she 
lives — 


“ And, now thou seest my soul's angelic hue, 

“ ’Tis time these featiires were uncurtained too ; — 



He raised his veil."’ 

“ This brow, whose light — O rare celestial light ! — 

“ Hath been reserved to bless thy favored sight ; 

“ These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might 

* Clrcuin easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ea serpentium 
popiilatur ova, gratissimamque ex his escam nidis suis refert.— 
Solinus^ 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


77 


“ Thou’st seen immortal Man kneel down and 
quake — 

“ Would that they lofrc Heaven’s lightnings for his 
sake ! \ 

“ But turn and look— then wonder, if thou wilt, 

“ That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt, 
“ Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth 
“ Sent me thus maimed and monstrous upon earth ; 
“ And on that race who, though more vile they be 
“ Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me ! 

“ Here — judge if hell, with all its power to damn, 

“ Can add one curse to the foul thing I am !” — 

He raised his veil — the Maid turned slowly round. 
Looked at him — shrieked — and sunk upon the 
ground. 


Lalla Rookh, 



On their 
arrival, next 
night, at the 
place of en- 
campment, 
they were 
surprised and 
delighted to 
find the 
groves all 
around illu- 
m i n a t e d ; 
some artists 
of Y am t- 
cheou* having been sent 
on previously for the pur- 


Thousands of silken lanterns. 


* “ The feast of Lanterns is 
celebrated at Yamtcheou with 
more magnificence than any- 
where else ; and the report goes, 
that the illuminations there are so 
splendid, that an Emperor once, 
not daring openly to leave his 
court to go thither, committed 
himself with the Queen and sev- 
eral Princesses of his family into the hands of a magician, who 
promised to transport them thither in a trice. He made them in 
the night to ascend magnificent thrones that were borne up by 
swans, which in a moment arrived at Yamtcheou. The Emperor 
saw at his leisure all the solemnity, being carried upon a cloud 
that hovered over the city and descended by degrees ; and came 
back again with the same speed and equipage, nobody at court 
perceiving his absence.” — The Present State of China, p 156. 


Veiled Pi'ophet of Khorassan. 


79 


pose. On each side of the green alley, which led 
to the Royal Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bam- 
boo work* were erected, representing arches, min- 
arets and towers, from ^which hung thousands of 
silken lanterns, painted by the most delicate pen- 
cils of Canton. — Nothing could be more beautiful 
than the leaves of the mango-trees and acacias, shin- 
ing in the light of the bamboo-scenery, which shed a 
lustre round as soft as that of the nights of Peristan. 

Lalla Rookh, however, who was too much oc- 
cupied by the sad story of Zelica and her lover, to 
give a thought to any thing else, except, perhaps, 
him who related it, hurried on through this scene of 
splendor to her pavilion, — greatly to the mortifica- 
tion of the poor artists of Yamtcheou, — and was fol- 
lowed with equal rapidity by the Great Chamber- 
lain, cursing, as he went, that ancient Mandarin, 
whose parental anxiety in lighting up the shores of 
the lake, where his beloved daughter had wandered 
and been lost, was the origin of these fantastic Chi- 
nese illuminations.t 

* See a description of the nuptials of Vizier Alee in the Asiatic 
Annual Register of 1804. 

t “ The vulgar ascribe it to an accident that happened in the 
family of a famous mandarin, whose daughter, walking one even- 
ing upon the shore of a lake, fell in and was drowned ; this afflict- 
ed father, with his familj', ran thither, and, the better to find her, 
he caused a great company of lanterns to be lighted. All the in- 
habitants of the place thronged after him with torches. The year 
ensuing they made fires upon the shores the same day ; they con- 
tinued the ceremony every year, every one lighted his lantern, 
and by degrees it commenced into a custom.”— Present State of 
China. 


8o 


Lalla Rookh. 


Without a moment’s delay, young Feramorz 
was introduced, and Fadladeen, who could never 
make up his mind as to the merits of a poet, till he 
knew the religious sect to which he belonged, was 
•about to ask him whether he was a Shia or a Sooni, 
when Lalla Rookh impatiently clapped her hands 
for silence, and the youth, being seated upon the 
musnud near her, proceeded : — 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


8i 


Prepare thy soul, young Azim ! — thou hast 
braved 

The bands of Greece, still mighty though enslaved ; 
Hast faced her phalanx, armed with all its fame, 
Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame ; 

All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow ; 

But a more perilous trial waits thee now%— 
Woman’s bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes 
F rom every land where woman smiles or sighs ; 

Of ever)^ hue, as Love may chance to raise 
His black or azure banner in their blaze ; 

And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash 
That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash. 

To the sly, stealing splendors, almost hid. 

Like swords half-sheathed, beneath the downcast 
lid 

Such, Azim, is the lovely, luminous host 
Now led against thee ; and, let conquerors boast 
Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms 
A young, warm spirit against beauty’s charms. 

Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, 

Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. 

Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights 
And busy shapes proclaim the toilet’s rites ; — 

From room to room the ready handmaids hie, 

Some skilled to wreathe the turban tastefully. 

Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade. 

O’er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, 


82 


Lalla Rookh. 


Who, if between the folds but one eye shone, 

Like Seba’s Queen, could vanquish with that 
one :* — 

While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue 
The fingers’ ends with a bright roseate hue,t 
So bright, that in the mirror’s depth they seem 
Like tips of coral branches in the stream : 

And others mix the Kohol’s jetty dye. 

To give that long, dark language to the eye,J 
Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to 
cull 

From fair Circassia’s vales, so beautiful. 
yVll is in motion : — rings and plumes and pearls 
Are shining everywhere : — some younger girls 
Are gone by moonlight to the garden-beds. 

To gather fresh, ‘cool chaplets for their heads ; — 

* “ Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes.” — 
Sol. Song. 

1 ' ” They tinged the ends of her fingers scarlet with Henna, so 
that they resembled branches of coral.” — Story o/ Prince Futtun 
in Bahardanush. 

t ” The women blacken the Inside of their eyelids with a pow- 
der named the black Kohol ” — Russel. 

” None of these ladies,” says Sha^Uy ” take themselves to be 
completely dressed, till they have tinged the hair and edges of 
their eyelids with the powder of lead ore. Now, as this operation 
is performed by dipping fiist into the powder a small wooden bod- 
kin of the thickness of a quill, and then drawing it afterwards 
through the eyelids over the ball of the eye, we shall have a lively 
image of what the Prophet (Jer. iv. 30) may be supposed to mean 
by rendingthe eyes with painting. This practice is no doubt of 
great antiquity ; for besides the instance already taken notice of, 
we find that where Jezebel is said (2 Kings, ix. 30) to have paint- 
ed her facey the original words are, she adjusted her eyes with 
the powder 0/ lead ore."" — Shaw's Travels, 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 83 



Gay creatures ! sweet, though mournful, ’tis to see 
How each prefers a garland from that tree 
Which brings to mind her childhood’s innocent day. 
And the dear fields and friendships far away. 


The maid of India, blessed again to hold 
In her full lap the Champac’s leaves of gold,* 

* “ The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-colored Campac 
on the black hair of the Indian women has supplied the Sanscrit 
Poets with many elegant allusions.” — See Asiatic Researches, 
vol. iv. . . 


Upon her i.ong black hair.” 


'NT A' 


84 V- 


Lalla Rookh. 



Thinks of the time when, by the 
Ganges’ flood, 

Her little playmates scattered many 
a bud 

Upon her long black hair, with 
glossy gleam 

Just dripping from the consecrated 
stream ; 

While the young Arab, haunted by 
the smell 

Cf her own mountain flowers, as by 
a spell, — 

The sweet Elcaya,* and that courte- 
ous tree 

Which bows to all who seek its 
canopy,t— 

Sees, called up round her by these 
magic scents. 

The well, the camels, and her fa- 
ther’s tents ; 

Sighs for the home she left with little pain. 

And wishes ev’n its sorrows back again ! 


Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls. 

Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls 
Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound 
From many a jasper fount, is heard around, 

* A tree famous for its perfume, and common on the hills of 
Yemen. — 

t Of the genus mimosa, “which droops its branches whenever 
any person approaches it, seeming as if it saluted those who retire 
und^r its shade,” — Niebuhr ^ 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, S5 


Young Azim roams bewildered, — nor can guess 
What means this maze of light and loneliness. 

Here, the way leads, o’er tessellated floors 
Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors. 

Where, ranged in cassolets and silver urns. 

Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns ; 

And spicy rods, such as illume at night 
The bowers of Tibet,* send forth odorous light. 
Like Peris’ wands, when pointing out the road 
For some pure Spirit to its blest abode : — 

And here, at once, the glittering saloon 
Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as neon ; 
Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays 
In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays 
High as the’ enamelled cupola, which towers 
All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers ; 

* “ Cloves are a principal ingredient in the composition of the 
perfumed rods, which men of rank keep constantly burning in 
their presence.” — Turner's Tibet. 



Each brilliant bird, 




86 Lalla jRookh. 





‘ Those gold- 
en BIRDS.'’ 


And the mosaic floor beneath 
shines through 

The sprinkling of that foun- 
tain’s silvery dew, 

Like the wet, glistening shells, 
of every dye. 

That on the margin of the 
Red Sea lie. 


Here too he traces the kind visitings 
Of woman’s love in those fair, living things 
Of land and wave, whose fate — in bondage 
thrown 

For their weak loveliness — is like her own ! 
On one side gleaming with a sudden grace 
Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase 
In which it undulates, small fishes shine. 

Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ; — 

While, on the other, latticed lightly in 
With odoriferous woods of COMORiN,* 

Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ; — 
Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between 
The crimson blossoms of the coral-treef 
In the warm isles of India’s sunny sea ; 

Mecca’s blue sacred pigeon,^ and the thrush 


* “ C’est d’ou vient le bois d’aloes, que les Arabes appellent Oud 
Comari, et celui du sandal, qui s’y trouve en grande quantite.” — 
D' Herbelot. 

t “ Thousands of variegated loories visit the coral-trees.” — 
Barrow. 

$ In Mecca there are quantities of blue pigeons, which none 


Veiled Prophet of Jfhorassan. 87 


Of Hindostan,* whose holy 
warblings gush, 

At evening, from the tall pa- 
goda’s top ; — 

Those golden birds that, in 
the spice-time, drop 
About the gardens, drunk 
with that sweet foodt 
Whose scent hath lured 
them o’er the summer 
flood ;l 

And those that under Araby’s 
soft sun 

Build their high nests of bud- 
ding cinnamon ;§ 

In short, all rare and beaute- 
ous things, that fly 
Through the pure element, 
here calmly lie 



About the garoens.” 


will affright or abuse, much less kill.” — Pitt's Account of the Ma- 
hometans. 

* ” The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first choristers of 
India. It sits perched on the sacred pagodas, and from thence 
delivers its melodious song.” — Pennant's Hindustan. 

t Tavernier adds, that while the Birds of Paradise lie in this in- 
toxicated state, the emmets come and eat off their legs ; and that 
hence it is they are said to have no feet. 

% Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come in flights 
from the southern isles to India ; and ” the strength of the nut- 
meg,” says Tavernier, “ so intoxicates them that they fall dead 
drunk to the earth.” 

§ ‘‘ That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its nest with 
cinnamon.” — Brown's Vulgar Errors. 


88 


Lalla Rookh. 


Sleeping in light, like the green birds* that dwell 
In Eden’s radiant fields of asphodel ! 

So on, through scenes past all imagining. 

More like the luxuries of that impious king,t 
Whom Death’s dark Angel, with his lightning torch. 
Struck down and blasted even in Pleasure’s porch. 
Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent. 

Armed with Heaven’s sword, for man’s enfranchise- 
ment — 

Young Azim wandered, looking sternly round, 

His simple garb and war-boots’ clanking sound 
But ill according with the pomp and grace 
And silent lull of that voluptuous place. 

“ Is this, then,” thought the youth, “ is this the 
way 

“To free man’s spirit from the deadening sway 
“ Of worldly sloth, — to teach him, while he lives, 
“To know no bliss but that which virtue gives, 

“ And when he dies, to leave his lofty name 
“ A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame ? 

“ It was not so. Land of the generous thought 
“ And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught ; 

“ It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, 

“ Thy Freedom nursed her sacred energies ; 


* “ The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops of green 
birds.” — Gibbon^ vol. ix. p. 421. 

t Shedad, who made the delicious gardens of Irim, in imitation 
of Paradise, and was destroyed by lightning the first time he at- 
tempted to enter them. 


i 


V 





* 


■ / 





*'He felt IT.S WITCHERY,’’ 




90 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ O ! not beneath the’ enfeebling, withering glow 
“ Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow, 

“ With which she wreathed her sword, when she 
would dare 

“ Immortal deeds ; but in the bracing air 
“ Of toil, — of temperance, — of that high, rare, 

“ Ethereal virtue, w'hich alone can breathe 
“ Life, health, and lustre into Freedom’s wreath. 

“ Who, that surveys this span of earth we press, — 

“ This speck of life in time’s great wilderness, 

“ This narrow isthmus ’twixt two boundless seas, 

“ The past, the future, two eternities ! — 

“ Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare, 

“ When he might build him a proud temple there, 

“ A name, that long shall hallow all its space. 

And be each purer soul’s high resting-place } 

“ But no — it cannot be, that one, whom God 
“ Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood’s rod, — 

“ A Prophet of the truth, whose mission draws 
“ Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane its 
cause 

“ With the world’s vulgar pomps ; — no, no, — I see — 
“ He thinks me weak — this glare of luxury 
“Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze 
“Of my young soul — shine on, ’twill stand the 
blaze !” 

So thought the youth : — but, ev’n while he defied 
This witching scene, he felt its witchery' glide 
Thro’ every' sense. The perfume breathing round. 
Like a per\'ading spirit ; — the still sound 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 9 ! 


Of falling waters, lulling as the song 
Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng 
Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep 
In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep ;* 

And music, too — dear music ! that can touch 
Beyond all else the soul that loves it much — 

Now heard far off, so far as but to seem 
Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream ; — 

All was too much for him, too full of bliss ; 

The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this ; 
Softened, he sunk upon a couch, and gave 
His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on 
wave 

Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid ; 
He thought of Zelica, his own dear maid. 

And of the time when, full of blissful sighs. 

They sat and looked into each other’s eyes. 

Silent and happy — as if God had given 

Nought else worth looking at on this side Heaven. 

“ O my loved mistress, thou, whose spirit still 
“ Is with me, round me, wander where I will — 

“ It is for thee, for thee alone I seek 
“ The paths of glory ; to light up thy cheek 
“ With warm approval — in that gentle look, 

“To read my praise, as in an angel’s book, 

“ And think all toils rewarded, when from thee 
“ I gain a smile worth immortality ! 

* “ My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the Nilica) is 
their Sephalica, thus named because the bees are supposed to sleep 
on its blossoms.” — Sir W. Jones, 


92 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ How shall I bear the moment, when restored 
“To that young heart where I alone am Lord, 

“ Though of such bliss unworthy, — since the best 
“ Alone deserv^e to be the happiest ; — 

“ When from those lips, unbreathed upon for years, 
“ I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, 

“ And find those tears warm as when last they 
started, 

“ Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted ! 

“ O my own life ! — why should a single day, 

“ A moment keep me from those arms away?” 

While thus he thinks, still nearer, on the breeze. 
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies. 

Each note of which but adds new, downy links 
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. 

He turns him toward the sound, and far away 
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play 
Of countless lamps, — like the rich track which Day 
Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us. 

So long the path, its light so tremulous, — 

He sees a group of female forms advance. 

Some chained together in the mazy dance 
By fetters, forged in the green sunny bowers. 

As they were captives to the King of Flowers ;* 

And some disporting round, unlinked and free. 

Who seemed to mock their sisters’ slaver}^ ; 

And round and round them still, in wheeling flight. 
Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night ; 

* “ They deferred it till the King of Flowers should ascend his 
throne of enamelled foliage.” — The Bahardanush, 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


93 


While others waked, as gracefully along 
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song 
From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill. 

Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still. 

And now they come, now pass before his eye. 
Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie 
With Fancy’s pencil, and give birth to things 
Lovely beyond its fairest picturings. 

Awhile they dance before him, then divide. 
Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide 
Around the rich pavilion of the sun, — 

Till, silently dispersing, one by one. 

Through many a path, that from the chamber 
leads 

To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads. 

Their distant laughter comes upon the wind. 

And but one trembling nymph remains behind, — 
Beckoning them back in vain, for they are gone. 
And she is left in all that light alone ; 

No veil to curtain o’er her beauteous brow. 

In its young bashfulness more beauteous now; 

But a light golden chain-work round her hair,* 

Such as the maids of YezdI and Shiraz wear. 


* “ One of the head-dresses of the Persian women Is composed 
of a light golden chain-work, set with small pearls, with a thin gold 
plate pendant, about the bigness of a crown-piece, on which is im- 
pressed an Arabian prayer, and which hangs upon the cheek be- 
low the ear.” — Hanway's Travels. 

t “Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest women 
in Persia. The proverb is, that to live happy a man must have a 
wife of Yezd, eat the bread of Yezdecas, and drink the wine of 
Shiraz,” — Tt^vernier* 





Veiled Prophet of KJiorassan 


95 


From which, on either side, gracefully hung 
A golden amulet, in the’ Arab tongue, 

Engraven o’er with some immortal line 
From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine ; 

While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood. 

Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood. 

Which, once or twice, she touched with hurried strain, 
. Then took her trembling fingers off again. 

But when at length a timid glance she stole 
At Azim, the sweet gravity of soul 
She saw through all his features calmed her fear. 
And, like a half-tamed antelope, more near. 

Though shrinking still, she came ; — then sat her down 
Upon a musnud’s* edge, and, bolder grown. 

In the pathetic mode of Isfahan! 

Touched a preluding strain, and thus began ; — 

There’s a bower of roses by Bendemeer’s]; stream. 
And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; 
In the time of my childhood ’twas like a sweet dream 
To sit in the roses and hear the bird’s song. 

That bower and its music I never forget. 

But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, 

I think — Is the nightingale singing there yet t 
Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer.^ 


* Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of 
distinction. 

t The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical modes 
or Perdas by the names of different countries or cities, as the mode 
of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, &c. 

X A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar, 


96 


Lalla Rookh. 



Thus- memory draws 
from delight, ere 
it dies. 

An essence that 
breathes of it 
many a year ; 

Thus bright to my soul, as ’tv/as then to my eyes, 

Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bende- 

MEER ! 


“’Mid showers of jessamine.” 


No, the roses soon . 
withered that 
hung o’er the 
wave, 

But some blossoms 
were gathered, 
while freshly they 
shone. 

And a dew was dis- 
tilled from their 
flowers, that gave 
All the fragrance 
of summer, when 
summer was 
gone. 


“ Poor maiden !” thought the youth, “ if thou wert 
sent, 

” With thy soft lute and beauty’s blandishment, 

“ To wake unholy wishes in this heart, 

” Or tempt its truth, thou- little know’st the art. 


> 


Veiled Pi'ophet of Khorassan. 97 

“ For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong. 
“ Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. 

“ But thou hast breathed such purity, thy lay 
“ Returns so fondly to youth’s virtuous day, 

“ And leads thy soul — if e’er it wandered thence — 

“ So gently back to its first innocence, 

“ That I would sooner stop the unchained dove, 

“ When swift returning to its home of love, 

“ And round its snowy wing new fetters twine, 

“ Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine !” 

Scarce had this feeling passed, when, sparkling 
through 

The gently opened curtains of light blue 
That veiled the breezy casement, countless eyes. 
Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies, 
Looked laughing in, as if to mock the pair 
That sat so still and melancholy there : — 

And now the curtains fly apart, and in 
From the cool air, ’mid showers of jessamine 
Which those without fling after them in play. 

Two lightsome maidens spring, — lightsome as they 
Who live in the’ air on odors, — and around 
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground, 
Chase one another, in a varying dance 
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance. 

Too eloquently like love’s warm pursuit : — 

While she, who sung so gently to the lute 
Her dream of home, steals timidly away. 

Shrinking as violets do in summer’s ray, — 

But takes with her from Azim’s heart that sigh 
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by 


98 


Lalla Rookh. 


In the world’s crowd, too lovely to remain, 

Creatures of light we never see again ! 

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danced 
Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanced 
More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o’er 
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore ;* 

While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall 
Of curls descending, bells as musical 
As those that, on the golden-shafted trees 
Of Eden, shake in the eternal breeze, t 
Rung round their steps, at every bound more 
sweet. 

As ’twere the’ ecstatic language of their feet. 

At length the chase was o’er, and they stood 
wreathed 

Within each other’s arms ; while soft there breathed 
Through the cool casement, mingled with the 
sighs 

Of moonlight flowers, music that seemed to rise 
From some still lake, so liquidly it rose ; 

And, as it swelled again at each faint close. 

The ear could track through all that maze of chords 
And young sweet voices, these impassioned words : — 


* “ To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near Bad- 
ku) was a mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, arising from 
the sea-glass and crystals with which it abounds.” — Journey of 
the Russian Ambassador to Persia, 1746. 

t“ To which will be added the sound of the bells, hanging on 
the trees, which will be put in motion bj' the wind proceeding 
from the throne of God as often as the blessed wish for music.” — 
Sale, 


\ 




) > 
3 > ) 



\ 


lOO 


Lalla Rookh. 



A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh 
Is burning now through earth and air ; 
Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh. 
Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there 


His breath is the soul of flowers like these. 
And his floating eyes — O ! they resemble* 
Blue water-lilies, t when the breeze 

Is making the stream around them tremble. 


Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power ! 

Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss ! 

Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour. 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 


By the fair and brave 
Who blushing unite. 

Like the sun and wave, 

When they meet at night ; — 


*“ Whose wanton eyes resemble blue wa- 
ter-lilies, agitated by the breeze.”— 
t The blue lotos, which grows in Cashmere 
and in Persia. 


” Blue water-lilies.” 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


lOI 


By the tear that shows 
When passion is nigh, 

As the rain-drop flows 

From the heat of the sky ; — 

By the first love-beat 
Of the youthful heart, 

By the bliss to meet. 

And the pain to part ; — 

By all that thou hast 
To mortals given. 

Which — O, could it last. 

This earth were heaven ! 

We call thee hither, entrancing Power ! 

Spirit of Love ! Spirit of Bliss ! 

Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 


Impatient of a scene, whose luxuries stole. 

Spite of himself, too deep into his soul. 

And where, midst all that the young heart loves 
most. 

Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost. 

The youth had started up, and turned away 
From the light nymphs, and their luxurious lay. 

To muse upon the pictures that hung round,* — 


* It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans prohibit 
all pictures of animals ; but Toderini shows that, though the 


102 


Lalla Rookh. 


Bright images, that spoke without a sound, 

And views, like vistas into fairy ground. 

But here again new spells came o’er his sense ; — 
All that the pencil’s mute omnipotence 
Could call up into life, of soft and fair. 

Of fond and passionate, was glow’ing there ; 

Nor yet too warm, but touched with that fine art 
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part ; 

Which knows ev’n Beauty when half-veiled is 
best, — 

Like her own radiant planet of the west. 

Whose orb when half retired looks loveliest.* 

There hung the history of the Genii-King, 

Traced through each gay, voluptuous wandering 
With her from Saba’s bowers, in whose bright eyes 
He read that to be blessed is to be wise ;t — 

practice is forbidden by the Koran, they are not more averse to 
painted figures and images than other people. From Mr. Mur- 
phy’s work, too, we find that the Arabs of Spain had no objection 
to the introduction of figures into painting. 

* This is not quite astronomically true. “ Dr. Hadley (says 
Keil) has shown that Venus is brightest when she is about forty 
degrees removed from the sun ; and that then but only a fourth 
j>art of her lucid disk is to be seen from the earth.” 

t For the loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to preside 
over the whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the Queen of Sheba, or 
Saba, see D' Herbelot and the Notes on the Koran, chap. 2, 

“In the palace which Solomon ordered to be built against the 
arrival of the Queen of Saba, the floor or pavement was of trans- 
parent glass, laid over running water, in which fish were swim- 
ming.” This led the Queen into a very natural mistake, which 
the Koran has not thought beneath its dignity to commemorate. 
“ It was said unto her, ‘ Enter the palace.’ And when she saw it 
she imagined it to be a great water ; and she discovered her legs 
by lifting up her robe to pass through it. Whereupon Solomon 


V eiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


103 


Here fond ZULEIKA* wooes with open arms 
The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms, 
Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone. 

Wishes that Heaven and she could both be won ; 
And here Mohammed, born for love and guile. 
Forgets the Koran in his Mary’s smile; — 

Then beckons some kind angel from above 
With a new text to consecrate their love.f 

With rapid step, yet pleased and lingering eye, 
Did the youth pass these pictured stories by. 

And hastened to a casement, where the light 
Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright 
The fields without were seen, sleeping as still 
As if no life remained in breeze or rill. 

Here paused he, while the music, now less near. 
Breathed with a holier language on his ear. 

As though the distance, and that heavenly ray 
Through which the sounds came floating, took away 
All that had been too earthly in the lay. 


said to her, ‘ Verily, this is the place evenly floored with glass.’ ” 
— Chap. 27. 

* The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. 

“The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity conceived for 
her young Hebrew slave has given rise to a much esteemed poem 
in the Persian language, entitled Yusef vau Zelikha, hy Noured- 
din Jami : the manuscript copy of which, in the Bodleian Li- 
brary at Oxford, is supposed to be the finest in the whole world.” 
— Note upon Nott's Translation of Hafez. 

t The particulars of Mahomet’s amour with Mary, the Coptic 
girl, in justification of which he added a new chapter to the Ko-- 
ran, tnaj^ be found in Ga^nier s Notes upon Abulfeda, p. 151. 


104 


Lalla Rookh, 


O ! could he listen to such sounds unmoved, 

And by that light — nor dream of her he loved ? 
Dream on, unconscious boy ! while yet thou may’st ; 
'Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. 

Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart. 

Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart. 

Think of her smiles as when thou saw’st them last. 
Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o’ercast ; 

Recall her tears, to thee at parting given. 

Pure as they weep, if angels weep, in Heaven. 
Think, in her own still bower she waits thee now. 
With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow. 
Yet shrined in solitude — thine all, thine only. 

Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely. 

O that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed. 

Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed ! 

The song is hushed, the laughing nymphs are flown. 
And he is left, musing of bliss, alone ; — 

Alone } — no, not alone — that heavy sigh. 

That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh — ■ 
Whose could it be } — alas ! is miser)" found 
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground } 

He turns, and sees a female form, close veiled. 
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had failed. 
Against a pillar near ; — not glittering o’er 
With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore. 
But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress,* 
Bokhara’s maidens wear in mindfulness 


* “Deep blue is their mourning color.” — Hanway, 


TTT • 



fi 

■ 

r 



‘^Against a pillar near/* 


% 






io6 


Lalla Rookh. 


Of friends or kindred, dead or far away ; — 

And such as Zelica had on that day 

He left her — when, with heart too full to speak. 

He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek. 

A strange emotion stirs within him, — more 
Than mere compassion ever waked before ; 
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she 
Springs forward, as with life’s last energ}’-. 

But, swooning in that one convulsive bound. 

Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground ; — 
Her veil falls off — her faint hands clasp his 
knees — 

’Tis she herself ! — ’tis Zelica he sees ! 

But, ah, so pale, so changed — none but a lover 
Could in that wreck of beauty’s shrine discover 
The once adored divinity — even he 
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly 
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gazed 
Upon those lids, where once such lustre blazed. 

Ere he could think she was mdeed his own. 

Own darling maid, whom he so long had known 
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both ; 

Who, ev’n when grief was heaviest — when loath 
He left her for the wars — in that worst hour 
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower,* 
When darkness brings its weeping glories out. 

And spreads its sighs like frankincense about. 


* The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spread its rich odor 
after sunset. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 107 


“ Look up, my Zelica — one moment show 
“ Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know 
“ Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, 

“ But there, at least, shines as it ever shone. 

“ Come, look upon thy Azim — one dear glance, 

“ Like those of old, were Heaven ! whatever chance 
“ Hath brought thee here, O, ’twas a blessed one ! 
There — my loved lips — they move — that kiss hath 
run 

“ Like the first shoot of life through eveiy vein, 

“ And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again. 

“ O the delight — now, in this very hour, 

“ When, had the whole rich world been in my power, 
“ I should have singled out thee, only thee, 

“ From the whole world’s collected treasury- — 

“To have thee here — to hang thus fondly o’er 
“ My own, best, purest Zelica once more !” 

It was indeed the touch of those fond lips 
Upon her eyes that chased their short eclipse. 

And, gradual as the snow, at Heaven’s breath. 
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath. 

Her lids unclosed, and the bright eyes were seen 
Gazing on his — not, as they late had been. 

Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene ; 

As if to lie, ev’n for that tranced minute. 

So near his heart, had consolation in it ; 

And thus to wake in his beloved caress 
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. 

But, when she heard him call her good and pure, 

O, ’twas too much — too dreadful to endure ! 




y 


V\v. V 


“ Puke ! — O Heaven !” 


N 








Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


109 


Shuddering she broke away from his embrace, 

And, hiding with both hands her guilty face. 

Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven 
A heart of very marble, “ Pure ! — O Heaven !” — 

That tone — those looks so changed — the wither- 
ing blight. 

That sin and sorrow leave where’er they light ; 

The dead despondency of those sunk eyes. 

Where once, had he thus met her by surprise, 

He would have seen himself, too happy boy. 
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy ; 

And then the place, — that bright, unholy place. 
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace 
And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves 
Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves,* — 

All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold 
As death itself ; — it needs not to be told — 

No, no — he sees it all, plain as the brand 
Of burning shame can mark — whate’er the hand. 
That could from Heaven and him such brightness 
sever, 

’Tis done — to Heaven and him she’s lost forever ! 

It was a dreadful moment ; not the tears. 

The lingering, lasting misery, of years 
Could match that minute’s anguish — all the worst 
Of sorrow’s elements in that dark burst 
Broke o’er his soul, and, with one crash of fate. 

Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate. 


* “ Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent 








no Lalla Rookh. 


“ O ! curse me not,” she cried, as wild he tossed 
His desperate hand towards Heaven — “ tho’ I am lost, 



“ O ! CURSE ME NOT.” 


Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall. 
No, no — ’twas grief, ’twas madness did it all ! 


among the balsam-trees, I made very particular inquiry ; several 
were brought me alive both to Yambo and Jidda.” — Bruce, 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


1 1 1 


“Nay, doubt me not — though all thy love hath 
ceased — 

“ I know it hath — yet, yet believe, at least, 

“ That every spark of reason’s light must be 
“ Quenched in this brain, ere I could stray from thee. 
“ They told me thou wert dead — why, Azim, why 
“ Did we not, both of us, that instant die 
“ When we were parted } O ! could’st thou but know 
“ With what a deep devotedness of woe 
“ I wept thy absence — o’er and o’er again 
“Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, 
“ And memor}', like a drop that, night and day, 

“ Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away. 

“ Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home, 

“ My eyes still turned the way thou wert to come, 

“ And, all the long, long night of hope and fear, 

“ Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear — 

“ O God ! thou would’st not wonder that, at last, 

“ When every hope was all at once o’ercast, 

“ When I heard frightful voices round me say 
“ Azioi is dead! — this wretched brain gave way, 

“ And I became a wreck, at random driven, 

“ Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven — 

“ All wild — and even this quenchless love within 
“ Turned to foul fires to light me into sin ! — 

“ Thou pitiest me — I knew thou would’st — that sky 
“ Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I. 

“ The fiend, who lured me hither — hist ! come near, 

“ Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear — 

“ Told me such things — O ! with such devilish art 
“ As would have ruined ev’n a holier heart — 


I 12 


Lalla Rookh 


“ Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere, 

“Where blessed at length, if I but served him 
here, 

“ I should forever live in thy dear sight, 

“ And drink from those pure eyes eternal light. 

“ Think, think how lost, how maddened I must be, 
“To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee ! 

“ Thou weep’st for me — do weep — O that I durst 
“ Kiss off that tear ! but, no — these lips are curs’d ; 
“ They must not touch thee ; — one divine caress, 

“ One blessed moment of forgetfulness 
“ I’ve had within those arms, and that shall lie, 

“ Shrined in my soul’s deep memory till I die ; 

“ The last of joy’s last relics here below, 

“ The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe, 

“ My heart has treasured from affection’s spring, 
“To soothe and cool its deadly withering ! 

“ But thou — yes, thou must go — forever go ; 

“ This place is not for thee — for thee ! O, no ; 

“ Did I but tell thee half, thy tortured brain 
“ Would burn like mine, and mine go wild again ! 

“ Enough, that Guilt reigns here — that hearts, once 
good, 

“ Now tainted, chilled, and broken, are his food. — 

“ Enough, that we are parted — that there rolls 
“ A flood of headlong fate between our souls, 

“ Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee 
“ As hell from Heaven, to all eternity !” 

“ Zelica, Zelica !” the youth exclaimed. 

In all the tortures of a mind inflamed 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, 


113 


Almost to madness — “ by that sacred Heaven, 

“ Where yet, if prayers can move, thou ’It be for- 
given 

“ As thou art here — here, in this writhing heart, 

“ All sinful, wild, and ruined as thou art ! — 

“ By the remembrance of our once pure love, 

“ Whiqh, like a churchyard light, still burns above 
“ The grave of our lost souls — which guilt in thee 
“ Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me ! — 

“ I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence : 

“ If thou hast yet one spark of innocence, 

“ Fly with me from this place ” 

“ With thee ! O bliss ! 

“ 'Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this. 

“ What ! take the lost one with thee } — let her rove 
“ By thy dear side, as in those days of love, 

“ When we were both so happy, both so pure — 

“ Too heavenly dream ! if there’s on earth a cure 
“ For the sunk heart, ’tis this — day after day 
“To be the blest companion of thy way ; 

“To hear thy angel eloquence — to see 
“ Those virtuous eyes forever turned on me 
“ And, in their light re-chastened silently, 

“ Like the stained w^eb that whitens in the sun, 

“ Grow pure by being purely shone upon ! 

“ And thou wilt pray for me — I know thou wilt : 

“ At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt 
“ Come heaviest o’er the heart, thou’lt lift thine eyes, 
“ Full of sweet tears, unto the darkening skies, 

“ And plead for me with Heaven, till I can dare 
“ To fix my own weak, sinful glances there ; 


Lalla Rookh. 


114 


“ Till the good angels, when they see me cling 
“ Forever near thee, pale and sorrowing, 

“ Shall for thy sake pronounce my 
soul forgiven, 

“ And bid thee take thy weeping 
slave to Heaven ! 

“ O yes. I’ll fly with thee ” 

Scarce had she said 
These breathless words, when a 
voice deep and dread 
As that of Mon KER, waking up the 
dead 

From their first sleep — so startling 
’twas to both — 

Rung through the casement near, 
“ Thy oath ! thy oath !” 

O Heaven, the ghastliness of that 
Maid’s look ! — 

“ ’Tis he,” faintly she cried, while terror shook 
Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes. 

Though through the casement, now, nought but the 
skies 

And moonlight fields were seen, calm as before — 

“ ’Tis he, and I am his — all, all is o’er ! 

“ Go — fly this instant, or thou’rt ruined too — 

“ My oath, my oath, O God ! ’tis all too true, 

“ True as the worm in this cold heart it is — 

“ I am Mokanna’s bride — his, Azim, his — 

“ The Dead stood round us, while I spoke that vow, 
“ Their blue lips echoed it — I hear them now- ! 

“ Their eyes glared on me, while I pledged that bowl — 



Thy oath ! thy oath !” 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 115 


“ ’Twas burning blood — I feel it in my soul ! 

“And the Veiled Bridegroom — hist! I’ve seen to- 
night 

“ What angels know not of — so foul a sight, 

“ So horrible — O ! never may’st thou see 
“ What there lies hid from all but hell and me ! 

“ But I must hence — Off, off — I am not thine, 

“ Nor Heaven’s, nor Love’s, nor aught that is 
divine ! 

“ Hold me not — Ha I think’st thou the fiends that 
sever 

“ Hearts, cannot sunder hands ? — Thus, then — for 
ever !” 

With all that strength which madness lends the 
weak. 

She flung away his arm, and, with a shriek. 

Whose sound, though he should linger out more 
years 

Than wretch e’er told, can never leave his ears — 
Flew up through that long avenue of light. 

Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night. 

Across the sun, and soon was out of sight I 


Lalla Rookh. 


1 16 



Lalla Rookh 
could think of 
nothing all day 
but the misery of 
these two young 
lovers. Her gay- 
ety was gone, and 
she looked pen- 
sively even upon 
F ADL ADEEN. 
She felt, too, with- 
out knowing why, 
a sort of uneasy 
pleasure in imag- 
ining that Azim 
must have been 
just such a youth 
as Feramorz ; just as 
worthy to enjoy all the 
blessings, without any 
of the pangs, of that 
illusive passion, which too often, 
like the sunny apples of Istkahar,* 
is all sweetness on one side, and 
all bitterness on the other. 


* “ In the territory of Istkahar there is a 
kind of apple, half of which is sweet and 
half sour .” — Ebn Haukal, 


“The gay cavalcade.” 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 117 


As they passed along a sequestered river after 
sunset, they saw a young Hindoo girl upon the 
bank,* whose employment seemed to them so 
strange, that they stopped their palankeens to ob- 
serve her. She had lighted a small lamp, filled with 
oil of cocoa, and, placing it in an earthen dish, adorn- 
ed with a wreath of flowers, had committed it with 
a trembling hand to the stream ; and was now anx- 
iously watching its progress down the current, heed- 
less of the gay cavalcade which had drawn up be- 
side her. Lalla Rookh was all curiosity ; — when 
one of her attendants, who had lived upon the banks 
of the Ganges, (where this ceremony is so frequent, 
that often, in the dusk of the evening, the river is 
seen glittering all over with lights, like the Oton-ta- 
la or Sea of Stars,t) informed the Princess that it 
was the usual way in which the friends of those who 
had gone on dangerous voyages offered up vows 
for their safe return. If the lamp sunk immediate- 
ly, the omen was disastrous ; but if it went shining 
down the stream, and continued to burn till entirely 
out of sight, the return of the beloved object was 
considered as certain. 

Lalla Rookh, as they moved on, more than 
once looked back, to observe how the young Hin- 


* For an account of this ceremony, see Grandprf s Voyage in 
the Indian Ocean. 

+ “ The place where the Whangho, a river of Tibet, rises, and 
where there are more than a hundred springs, which sparkle like 
stars ; whence it is called Hotun-nor, that is, the Sea of Stars.” — 
Description of Tibet in Pinkerton. 


ii8 


Lalla Rookh. 


doo’s lamp proceeded ; and, while she saw with 
pleasure that it was still unextinguished, she could 
not help fearing that all the hopes of this life were 
no better than that feeble light upon the river. The 
remainder of the journey was passed in silence. She 
now, for the first time, felt that shade of melancholy, 
which comes over the youthful maiden’s heart, as 
sweet and transient as her own breath upon a mir- 
ror ; nor was it till she heard the lute of Feramorz, 
touched lightly at the door of her pavilion, that she 
waked from the reverie in which she had been wan- 
dering. Instantly her eyes w’ere lighted up with 
pleasure ; and, after a few unheard remarks from 
Fadladeen upon the indecorum of a poet seating 
himself in presence of a Princess, every thing was 
arranged as on the preceding evening, and all lis- 
tened with eagerness, while the story was thus con- 
tinued : — - 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassafi. 


119 



Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way 
Where all was waste and silent yesterday ? 

This City of War which, in a few short hours, 
Hath sprung up here,* as if the magic powers 


*“The Lescar or Imperial Camp is divided, like a regular 
town, into squares, alleys, and streets, and from a rising ground 
furnishes one of the most agreeable prospects in the world. Start- 
ing up in a few hours in an uninhabited plain, it raises the idea of 
a city built by enchantment. Even those who leave their houses 
in cities to follow the prince in his progress, are frequently so 
charmed with the Lescar, when situated in a beautiful and con- 
venient place, that they cannot prevail with themselves to remove. 
To prevent this inconvenience to the court, the Emperor, after 
sufficient time is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, orders them 
to be burnt out of their tents.*’ — Dow's Hindostan. 

Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern encampment: 
— “His camp, like that of most Indian armies, exhibited a mot- 
ley collection of covers from the scorching sun and dews of the 


120 


Lalla Rookh. 


Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star. 

Built the high pillared halls of Chilminar,* 

Had conjured up, far as the eye can see. 

This world of tents, and domes, and sun-bright 
armory : — 

Princely pavilions, screened by many a fold 
Of crimson cloth, and topped with balls of gold : — 
Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun. 

Their chains and poitrels glittering in the sun ; 

And camels, tufted o’er with Yemen’s shells. 
Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells ! 

But yester-eve, so motionless around. 

So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound 
But the far torrent, or the locust birdt 
Hunting among the thickets, could be heard ; — 

night, variegated according to the taste or means of each Individ- 
ual, by extensive enclosures of colored calico surrounding superb 
suites of tents ; by ragged cloths or blankets stretched over sticks 
or branches ; palm leaves hastily spread over similar supports ; 
handsome tents and splendid canopies ; horses, oxen, elephants, 
and camels ; all intermixed without any exterior mark of order or 
design, except the flags of the chiefs, which usually mark the cen- 
tres of a congeries of these masses ; the only regular part of the 
encampment being the streets of shops, each of which is construct- 
ed nearly in the manner of a booth at an English fair.” — Histori- 
cal Sketches of the South of India. 

* The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are supposed to have 
been built by the Genii, acting under the orders of Jan ben Jan 
who governed the world long before the time of Adam. 

t A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by means of the 
water of a fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, called the Foun- 
tain of Birds, of which it is so fond that it will follow wherever 
that water is carried. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


I2I 


Y et hark ! what discords now, of ever)’ kind, 

Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the wind ; 
The neigh of cavalry ; — the tinkling throngs 
Of laden camels and their driver’s songs ;* — 

Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze 
Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ; — 
War-music, bursting out from time to time. 

With gong and tymbalon’s tremendous chime ; — 

Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute, 

The mellow breathings of some horn or flute. 

That far off, broken by the eagle note 
Of the’ Abyssinian trumpet,t swell and float. 

Who leads this mighty army ? — ask ye “ who ?” 
And mark .ye not those banners of dark hue. 

The Night and Shadow%J over yonder tent ? — 

It is the Caliph’s glorious armament. 

Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms. 

That hourly came, of the false Prophet’s arms, 

* “Some of the camels have bells about their necks, and some 
about their legs, like those which our carriers put about their fore- 
horses’ necks, which, together with the servants (who belong to 
the camels, and travel on foot) singing all night, make a pleasant 
noise, and the journey passes away delightfully.’’— Account 
of the Mahometans. 

“ The camel-driver follows the camels singing, and sometimes 
playing upon his pipe ; the louder he sings and pipes, the faster 
the camels go. Nay, they will stand still when he gives over his 
music.” — Tavernier. 

t “ This trumpet is often called, in Abyssinia, nesser cano^ 
which signifies the Note of the Eagle.” — Note of Bruce's Editor. 

X The two black standards borne before the Caliphs of the House * 
of Abbas were called, allegorically. The Night and The Shadow.” 
— See Gibbon. 



“ The Caliph’s glorious armament.” 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 123 


And of his host of infidels, who hurled 
Defiance fierce at Islam,* * * § and the world, — 
Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind 
The veils of his bright Palace calm reclined. 

Yet brooked he not such blasphemy should stain. 
Thus unrevenged, the evening of his reign ; 

But, having sworn upon the Holy Gravef 
To conquer or to perish, once more gave 
His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze. 

And w'ith an army nursed in victories. 

Here stands to crush the rebels that o’errun 
His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun. 

Ne’er did the march of Mahadi display 
Such pomp before ; — not ev’n w^hen on his w^ay 
To Mecca’s Temple, when both land and sea 
Were spoiled to feed the Pilgrim’s luxury 
When round him, 'mid the burning sands, he saw 
Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw. 

And cooled his thirsty lip, beneath the glow 
Of Mecca’s sun, wfith urns of Persian snow' :§ — 
Nor e’er did armament more grand than that 
Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat. 


* The Mahometan religion. 

t “ The Persians swear by the Tomb of Shah Besade, who is 
buried at Casbin ; and when one desirec another to asseverate a 
matter, he will ask him if he dare swear by the Holy Grave.”— 
Struy. 

X Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six millions 
of dinars of gold. 

§ Nivem Meccam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut raro 
visam. — Abtti/edn. 


124 


Lalla Rookh. 


First, in the van, the People of the Rock,* * * § 

On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock ;t 
Then, chieftains of Damascus, proud to see 
The flashing of their swords’ rich marquetry 
Men from the regions near the Volga’s mouth, 
Mixed with the rude, black archers of the South 
And Indian lancers, in white-turbaned ranks. 

From the far SiNDE, or Attock’s sacred banks, 
With dusky legions from the Land of Myrrh, § 

And many a mace-armed Moor, and Mid-sea islander. 

Nor less in number, though more new and rude 
In warfare’s school, was the vast multitude 
That, fired by zeal, or by oppression wronged, 
Round the white standard of the’ Impostor thronged. 
Beside his thousands of Believers — blind. 

Burning and headlong as the Samiel wind — 

Many who felt, and more who feared to feel 
The bloody Islamite’s converting steel. 

Flocked to his banner ; — Chiefs of the’ Uzbek race. 
Waving their heron crests with martial grace ;! 


* The inhabitants of Hejaz or Arabia Petraea, called by an East- 
ern writer “ The People of the Rock .” — Ebn Haukal. 

t “ Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochlani, of whom a 
written genealogy has been kept for 2000 years. They are said to 
derive their origin from King Solomon’s steeds.” — Niebuhr, 

X “ Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are 
wrought in gold or silver, or in marquetry with small gems.” — 
Asiat. Misc. v. i. 

§ Azab or Saba. 

I “The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white 
heron’s feathers in their turbans.” — Account of Independent 
Tartary. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 125 


Turkomans, countless as their flocks, led forth 
From the’ aromatic pastures of the North ; 

Wild warriors of the turquoise hills,* * * § — and those 
Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows 
Of Hindoo KoSH,t in stormy freedom bred, 

Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent’s bed. 
But none, of all who owned the Chief’s command. 
Rushed to that battle-field with bolder hand. 

Or sterner hate, than Iran’s outlawed men. 

Her Worshippers of FireJ — all panting then 
F or vengeance on the’ accursed Saracen ; ' 
Vengeance at last for their dear country spurned. 
Her throne usurped, and her bright shrines o’erturned. 
From Yezd’s§ eternal Mansion of the Fire, 

Where aged saints in dreams of Heaven expire ; 
From Badku, and those fountains of blue flame 
That burn into the Caspian,]] fierce they came. 


* In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous (in Khorassan) they 
find turquoises . — Ebn Haukal. 

t For a description of these stupendous ranges of mountains, 
see Eiphinstone's Caubul. 

f The Ghebers or Guebres, those original natives of Persia, who 
adhered to their ancient faith, the religion of Zoroaster, and who, 
after the conquest of their country by the Arabs, were either per- 
secuted at home, or forced to become wanderers abroad. 

§ “ Yezd, the chief residence of those ancient natives, who wor- 
ship the Sun and the Fire, which latter they have carefully kept 
lighted, without being once extinguished for a moment, about 3000 
years, on a mountain near Yezd, called Aler Quedah, signifying 
the House or Mansion of the Fire. He is reckoned very unfortu- 
nate who dies off that mountain.”—SUp/ien\ Persia. 

I “ When the weather is hazy, the springs of Naphtha (on an 
island near B.aku) boil up the higher, and the Naphtha often takes 
fire on the surface of the earth, and runs in a flame into the sea to 





ilOKANNA'S SELF PLUCKS TH’*I BLACK BaNNER DOWN.’’ 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 127 


Careless for what or whom the blow was sped, 

So vengeance triumphed, and their tyrants bled. 

Such was the wild and miscellaneous host. 

That high in air their motley banners tossed 
Around the Prophet-Chief — all eyes still bent 
Upon that glittering Veil, where’er it went. 

That beacon through the battle’s stormy flood. 
That rainbow of the field, whose showers were blood ! 

Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set. 

And risen again, and found them grappling yet ; 
While streams of carnage, in his noontide blaze. 
Smoke up to Heaven — hot as that crimson haze. 

By which the prostrate Caravan is awed,* 

In the red Desert, when the wind’s abroad. 

“ On, Swords of God !” the panting Caliph calls, — 
“Thrones for the living — Heaven for him who 
falls !”— 

“ On, brave avengers, on,” Mokanna cries, 

“ And Eblis blast the recreant slave that flies !” 
Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day — 

They clash — they strive — the Caliph’s troops give 
way ! 

a distance almost incredible ,” — Hanway on the Everlasting Fire 
at Baku. 

* Savary says of the south wind, which blows in Egypt from 
February to May, “ Sometimes it appears only in the shape of an 
impetuous whirlwind, which passes rapidly, and is fatal to the 
traveller, surprised in the middle of the deserts. Torrents of 
burning sand roll before it, the firmament is enveloped in a thick 
veil, and the sun appears of the color of blood. Sometimes whole 
caravans are buried in it.” 


128 


Lalla Rookh. 


Mokanna’s self plucks the black Banner down. 
And now the Orient World’s Imperial crown 
Is just within his grasp — when, hark, that shout ! 
Some hand hath checked the flying Moslem’s rout. 
And now thpy turn, they rally — at their head 
A warrior, (like those angel youths who led. 

In glorious panoply of Heaven’s own mail. 

The Champions of the Faith through Beder’s 
vale,*) 

Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives. 

Turns on the fierce pursuers’ blades, and drives 
At once the multitudinous torrent back — 

While hope and courage kindle in his track ; 

And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes 
Terrible vistas through which victory breaks ! 

In vain Mokanna, midst the general flight, 

Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy night. 
Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by. 

Leave only her unshaken in the sky — 

In vain he yells his desperate curses out. 

Deals death promiscuously to all about. 

To foes that charge and coward friends that fly. 

And seems of all the Great Arch-enemy. 

The panic spreads — “ A miracle !” throughout 
The Moslem ranks, “ a miracle !” they shout. 

All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems 
A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams ; 


* In the great victory gained by Mahomet at Beder, he was 
assisted, say the Mussulmans, by three thousand angels, led by 
Gabriel, mounted on his horse Hiazum. — See The Koran and its 
Commentators. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, 


129 



“ Right towards Mokanna.” 

•And every sword, true as o’er billows dim 
The needle tracks the load-star, following him ! 


130 


Lalia Rookh. 


Right towards Mokanna now he cleaves his 
path, 

Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath 
He bears from Heaven withheld its awful burst 
From weaker heads, and souls but half way cursed. 
To break o’er Him, the mightiest and the worst ! 
But vain his speed — though, in that hour of blood. 
Had all God’s seraphs round Mokanna stood, 
With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, 
Mokanna’s soul would have defied them all. 

Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong 
For human force, hurries ev’n him along; * 

In vain he struggles ’mid the wedged array 
Of flying thousands — he is borne away ; 

And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows. 

In this forced flight, is — murdering as he goes ! 

As a grim tiger, whom the torrent’s might 
Surprises in some parched ravine at night. 

Turns, ev’n in drowning, on the wretched flocks. 
Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks. 
And to the last, devouring on his way. 

Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay. 

“ Alla ilia Alla !” — the glad shout renew — 

“ Alla Akbar !”* — the Caliph’s in Merou. 

Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, 

And light your shrines and chant your ziraleets.f 

* The Tecbir, or cry of the Arabs. “ Alla Acbar !” says Ockley, 
means “ God is most mighty,” 

t The ziraleet is a kind of chorus, which the women of the East 
sing upon joyful occasions. — Russel, 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


131 


The Swords of God have triumphed — on his throne 
Your Caliph sits, and the Veiled Chief hath flown. 
Who does not envy that young warrior now, 

To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow. 

In all the graceful gratitude of power, 

For his throne’s safety in that perilous hour ? 

Who doth not wonder, when, amidst the’ acclaim 
Of thousands, heralding to Heaven his name, — 

’Mid all those holier harmonies of fame. 

Which sound along the path of virtuous souls. 

Like music round a planet as it rolls, — 

He turns away — coldly, as if some gloom 
Hung o’er his heart no triumphs can illume ; — - 
Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze 
Though glory’s light may play, in vain it plays. 

Yes, wretched Azim ! thine is such a grief, 

Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief ; 

A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break. 

Or warm or brighten, — like that Syrian Lake,* 

Upon whose surface morn and summer shed 
Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead ! — 
Hearts there have been, o’er which this weight of woe 
Came by long use of suffering, tame and slow ; 

But thine, lost youth ! was sudden — over thee 
It broke at once, when all seemed ecstasy ; 

When Hope looked up, and saw the gloomy Past 
Melt into splendor, and Bliss dawn at last — ■ 

’Twas then, ev’n then, o’er joys so freshly blown. 
This mortal blight of misery came down ; 

* The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor vegetable 
life. 


132 


Lalla Rookh. 


Ev’n then, the full, warm gushings of thy heart 
Were checked — like fount-drops, frozen as they 
start — 

And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang. 

Each fixed and chilled into a lasting pang. 

One sole desire, one passion now remains. 

To keep life’s fever still within his veins, — 

Vengeance ! — dire vengeance on the 
wretch who cast 

O’er him and all he loved that ruin- 
ous blast. 

For this, when rumors reached him 
in his flight 

F ar, far away, after that fatal night, — 
Rumors of armies, thronging to the’ 
attack 

Of the Veiled Chief, — for this he 
winged him back. 

Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags 
unfurled. 

And, when all hope seemed desper- 
ate, wildly hurled 
Himself into the scale, and saved a world. 

For this he still lives on, careless of all 
The wreaths that Glor)' on his path lets fall ; 

For this alone exists — like lightning-fire. 

To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire ! 

But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives ; 

With a small band of desperate fugitives. 



Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 133 


The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven, 

Of the proud host that late stood fronting Heaven, 
He gained Merou — breathed a short curse of blood 
O’er his lost throne — then passed the Jihon’s flood,* 
And gathering all, whose madness of belief 
Still saw a Savior in their down-fallen Chief, 

Raised the white banner within NEKSHEB’sgates,t 
And there, untamed, the’ approaching conqueror 
waits. 

Of all his Haram, all that busy hive. 

With music and with sweets sparkling alive. 

He took but one, the partner of his flight. 

One — not for love — not for her beauty’s light — 

No, Zelica stood withering ’midst the gay. 

Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday 
From the’ Alma tree and dies, while overhead 
To-day’s young flower is springing in its stead. J 
O, not for love — the deepest Damned must be 
Touched with Heaven’s glory, ere such fiends as he 
Can feel one glimpse of Love’s divinity. 

But no, she is his victim ; — there lie all 

Her charms for him — charms that can never pall. 

As long as hell within his heart can stir. 

Or one faint trace of Heaven is left in her. 

To work an angel’s ruin, — to behold 
As white a page as Virtue e’er unrolled 

* The ancient Oxus. t A city of Transoxiana. 

X “ You never can cast your eyes on this tree, but you meet there 
either blossoms or fruit ; and as the blossom drops underneath on 
the ground, (which is frequently covered with these purple-colored 
flowers,) others come forth in their stead,” &c. Scc.—Nieuhoff, 


134 


Lalla Rookh. 


Blacken, beneath his touch, into a scroll 
Of damning sins, sealed with a burning soul 



“Wan as the blossom.” 


This is his triumph ; this the joy accursed. 
That ranks him among demons all but first : 
This gives the victim, that before him lies 
Blighted and lost, a glory in -his eyes. 



. Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 135 



A light like that with which hell-fire illumes 
The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes ! 

But other tasks now wait him — tasks that need 
All the deep daringness of thought and deed 
With which the Dives* have gifted him — for mark, 
: Over yon plains, which night had else made dark. 

Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights 
That spangle India’s fields on showery nights,! — 

’ Far as their formidable gleams they shed, 

’ The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, 

[ Glimmering along the’ horizon’s dusky line, 

[ And thence in nearer circles, till they shine 

f Among the founts and groves, o’er which the town 

If In all its armed magnificence looks down. 

^ * The Demons of the Persian mythology. 

p tCarreri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy season. 

L — See his Travels 


I- 


136 


Lalla Rookh. 


Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements 
Mokanna views that multitude of tents ; 

Nay, smiles to think that, though entoiled, beset. 
Not less than myriads dare to front him yet ; — 

That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at 
bay, 

Ev’n thus a match for myriads such as they. 

“ O for a sweep of that dark Angel’s wing, 

“ Who brushed the thousands of the Assyrian 
King* 

“To darkness in a moment, that I might 
“ People hell’s chambers with yon host to-night ! 

“ But, come what may, let who will grasp the 
throne, 

“ Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan ; 

“ Let who will torture him. Priest — Caliph — King — 
“ Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring 
“ With victims’ shrieks and bowlings of the slave, — 
“ Sounds that shall glad me ev’n within my grave !” 
Thus to himself — but to the scanty train 
Still left around him, a far different strain : — 

“ Glorious Defenders of the sacred Crown 
“ I bear from Heaven, whose light nor blood shall 
drown 

“ Nor shadow of earth eclipse ; — before whose 
gems 

“ The paly pomp of this world’s diadems, 

“ The crown of Gerashid, the pillared throne 


♦Sennacherib, called by the Orientals King of Moussal.— 
D' Herbelot. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassdn. 


T37 


“ Of Parviz,* * * § and the heron crest that shone, t 
“ Magnificent, o’er Ali’s beauteous eyes,| 

“ Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies : 

“ Warriors, rejoice — the port to which we’ve passed 
“ O’er Destiny’s dark wave, beams out at last ! 

“ Victory’s our own — ’tis written in that Book 
“ Upon whose leaves none but the angels look, 

“ That Islam’s sceptre shall beneath the power 
“ Of her great foe fall broken in that hour, 

“ When the moon’s mighty orb, before all eyes, 
“From Neksheb’s Holy Well portentously shall 
rise ! 

“ Now turn and see !” 

They turned, and, as he spoke 
A sudden splendor all around them broke. 

And they beheld an orb, ample and bright. 

Rise from the Holy Well,§ and cast its light 


* Chosroes. For the description of his Throne or Palace, see 
Gibbon and D' Herbelot. 

There were said to be under this Throne or Palace of Khosrou 
Parviz a hundred vaults filled with “ treasures so immense that 
some Mahometan writers tell us, their Propnet, to encourage his 
disciples, carried them to a rock, which at his command opened, 
and gave them a prospect through it of the treasures of Khosrou.” 
— Universal History. 

t“ The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished before the 
heron tuft of thy turban.” — From one of the elegies or songs in 
praise of Ali, written in characters of gold round the gallery of 
Abbas’s tomb. — See Chardin. 

$The beauty of Ali’s eyes was so remarkable, that whenever the 
Persians would describe any thing as very lovely, they say it is 
Ayn Hali, or the Eyes of Ali. — Chardin. 

§ We are not told more of this trick of the Impostor, than that it 
was “ une machine, qu’il disoit etre la Lune.” According to Rich- 


o 







I’’ 


Now TURN AND SEE 









Veiled Prophet^ of Khorassan. 


139 


Round the rich city and the plain for miles,* — 
Flinging such radiance o’er the gilded tiles 
Of many a dome and fair-roofed imaret 
As autumn suns shed round them when they set. 
Instant from all who saw the’ illusive sign 
A murmur broke — “ Miraculous ! divine !” 

The Gheber bowed, thinking his idol star 
Had waked, and burst impatient through the bar 
Of midnight, to inflame him to the war ; 

While he of Moussa’s creed saw, in that ray. 

The glorious Light which, in his freedom’s day. 

Had rested on the Ark,t and now again 
Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain. 

“To victory !” is at once the cry of all — 

Nor stands Mokanna loitering at that call— 

But instant the huge gates are flung aside. 

And forth, like a diminutive mountain-tide 
Into the boundless sea, they speed their course 
Right on into the Moslem’s mighty force. 

The watchmen of the camp, — who, in their 
rounds. 

Had paused, and ev’n forgot the punctual sounds 

ardson, the miracle is perpetuated in Nekscheb. — “ Nakshab, the 
name of a city in Transoxiania, where they say there is a well, in 
which the .appearance of the moon is to be seen night and day.” 

* “ II amusa pendant deux mois le peuple de la ville de Nekh- ■ 
scheb, en faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fond d’un puits un corps 
lumineux semblable a Lune, qui portoit sa lumiere jusqu’k la dis- 
tance de plusieurs milles.” — D'' Herbelot, Hence he was called 
Sazendehmah, or the Moon-maker. 

t The Shechinah, called Sakinat in the Koran. — See .S«/^’i;Note, 
chap. ii. 


140 


Lalla Rookh. 


Of the small drum with which they count the night,* 
To gaze upon that supernatural light, — 

Now sink beneath an unexpected arm. 

And in a death-groan give their last alarm. 

“ On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen,! 

“ Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean ; 

“ There rests the Caliph — speed — one lucky lance 
“ May now achieve mankind’s deliverance.” 
Desperate the die — such as they only cast. 

Who venture for a wt)rld, and stake their last. 

But Fate’s no longer with him — blade for blade 
Springs up to meet them thro’ the glimmering shade. 
And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon 
Pour to the spot, like bees of KauzeroonJ 
To the shrill timbrel’s summons, — till, at length. 
The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength, 
And back to Neksheb’s gates, covering the plain 
With random slaughter, drives the’ adventurous 
train ; 

Among the last of whom the Silver Veil 
Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail 


* The parts of the night are made known as well by instruments 
of music, as by the rounds of the watchmen with cries and small 
drums. — See Burder's Oriental Customs, vol. i. p. 119. 

t The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened with cane, 
used to enclose a considerable space round the royal tents. — Notes 
on the Bahardanush. 

The tents of Princes were generally illuminated. Norden tells 
us that the tent of the Bey of Girge was distinguished from the 
other tents by forty lanterns being suspended before it. — See 
Harmer's Observations on Job. 

X From the groves of orange-trees at Kauzeroon the bees cull a 
celebrated honey.” — Morier's Travels. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 141 


Of some tossed vessel, on a stormy night, 

Catching the tempest’s momentary light ! 

And hath not this brought the proud spirit low ? 
Nor dashed his brow, nor checked his daring ? No. 
Though half the wretches, whom at night he led 
To thrones and victory, lie disgraced and dead. 

Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking crest. 

Still vaunt of thrones and victory to the rest ; — 

And they believe him ! — O, the lover may 
Distrust that look which steals his soul away ; — 
The babe may cease to think that it can play 
With Heaven’s rainbow ; — alchymists may doubt 
The shining gold their crucible gives out ; 

But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 
To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. 

And well the’ Impostor knew all lures and arts, 
That Lucifer e’er taught to tangle hearts ; 

Nor, ’mid these last bold workings of his plot 
Against men’s souls, is Zelica forgot. 

Ill-fated Zelica ! had reason been 
Awake, through half the horrors thou hast seen. 
Thou never could’st have borne it — Death had come 
At once, and taken thy wrung spirit home. 

But ’twas not so — a torpor, a suspense 
Of thought, almost of life, came o’er the intense 
And passionate struggles of that fearful night, 

When her last hope of peace and Heaven took flight ; 
And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy broke, 

As through some dull volcano’s veil of smoke 


142 


Lalla Rookh. 


Ominous flashings now and then will start, 

Which show the fire’s still busy at its heart ; 

Yet was she mostly wrapped in solemn gloom, — 
Not such as Azim’s, brooding o’er its doom. 

And calm without, as is the brow of death. 

While busy worms are gnawing underneath — 

But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free 
From thought or pain, a sealed-up apathy. 

Which left her oft, with scarce one living thrill. 

The cold, pale victim of her torturer’s will. 

Again, as in Merou, he had her decked 
Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect ; 

And led her glittering forth before the eyes 
Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice, — 

Pallid as she, the young, devoted Bride 

Of the fierce Nile, when, decked in all the pride 

Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide.* 

And while the wretched maid hung down her head. 
And stood, as one just risen from the dead. 

Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell 
His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell 
Possessed her now, — and from that darkened trance 
Should dawn ere long their Faith’s deliverance. 

Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame. 

Her soul was roused, and words of wildness came. 


* “A custom, still subsisting at this day, seems to me to prove 
that the Egyptians formerly sacrificed a young virgin to the God 
of the Nile ; for they now make a statue of earth in shape of a girl, 
to which they give the name of the Betrothed Bride, and throw it 
into the river.” — Savary. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassaii. 143 


Instant the bold blasphemer woul'd translate 
Her ravings into oracles of fate, 

Would hail Heaven’s signals in her flashing eyes, 
And call her shrieks the language of the skies ! 

But vain at length his arts — despair is seen 
Gathering around ; and famine comes to glean 
All that the sword had left unreaped : — in vain. 

At morn and eve, across the northern plain 
He looks impatient for the promised spears 
Of the wild Hordes and Tartar mountaineers ; 
They come not — while his fierce beleaguerers pour 
Engines of havoc in, unknown before,* 

* That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among the Mus- 
sulmans early in the eleventh century, appears from Dow's Ac- 
count of Mamood I. “ When he arrived at Moultan, finding that 
the country of the Jits was defended by great rivers, he ordered 
fifteen hundred boats to be built, each of which he armed with six 
iron spikes, projecting from their prows and sides, to prevent their 
being boarded by the enemy, who were very expert in that kind 
of war. When he had launched this fleet, he ordered twenty arch- 
ers into each boat, and five others with fire-balls, to burn the craft 
of the Jits, and naphtha to set the whole river on fire.” 

agnee aster., too, in Indian poems the Instrument of Fire, 
whose flame cannot be extinguished, is supposed to signify the 
Greek Fire. — See Wilks's South of India, vol. i. p. 471. — And in 
the curious Javan poem, the Brata Yudha, given by Sir Stam- 
ford Raffles in his History of Java, we find, ” He aimed at the 
heart of Soeta with the sharp-pointed Weapon of Fire.” 

The mention of gunpowder as in use among the Arabians, long 
before its supposed di.scovery in Europe, is introduced by Ebn 
Fadhl, the Egyptian geographer, who lived in the thirteenth cen- 
tury. ‘‘ Bodies,” he says, “ in the form of scorpions, bound round 
and filled with nitrous powder, glide along, making a gentle noise ; 
then, exploding, they lighten, as it were, and burn. But there .are 
others which, cast into the air, stretch along like a cloud, roaring 


144 


Lalla Rookh. 


And horrible as new ;* — javelins, that fly 
Inwreathed with smoky flames through the dark sky. 
And red-hot globes, that, opening as they mount. 
Discharge, as from a kindled Naphtha fount,t 
Showers of consuming fire o’er all below ; 

Looking, as through the’ illumined night they go. 
Like those wild birds J that by the Magians oft. 

At festivals of fire, were sent aloft 

horribly, as thunder roars, and on all sides vomiting out flames, 
burst, burn, and reduce to cinders whatever comes in their way.” 
The historian Ben Abdalla, in speaking of the sieges of Abulualid 
in the year of the Hegira 712, says, “A fiery globe, by means of 
combustible matter, with a mighty noise suddenly emitted, strikes 
with the force of lightning, and shakes the citadel.” — See the ex- 
tracts from CasirVs Biblioth. Arab. Hispan. in the Appendix to 
Berington s Literary History of the Middle Ages. 

* The Greek fire, which was occasionally lent by the emperors 
to their allies. ** It was,” says Gibbon, ‘‘ either launched in red- 
hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in arrows and javelins, twisted 
round with flax and tow, which had deeply imbibed the inflamma- 
ble oil.” 

t See Hanway's Account of the Springs of Naphtha at Baku, 
(which is called by Lieutenant Pottinger Joala Mookee, or, the 
Flaming Mouth,) taking fire and running into the sea. Dr. Cooke, 
in his Journal, mentions some wells in Circassia, strongly impreg- 
nated with this inflammable oil, from which issues boiling water. 
” Though the weather,” he adds, ‘‘ was now very cold, the warmth 
of these wells of hot water produced near them the verdure and 
flowers of spring.” 

Major Scott Waring says that naphtha is used by the Per- 
sians, as we are told it was in hell, for lamps. 

many a row 

Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielding light 
As from a sky. 

t ‘‘ At the great festival of fire, called the Sheb Seze, they used 
to set fire to large bunches of dry combustibles, fastened round 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


145 


Into the air, with blazing fagots tied 

To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide. 

All night the groans of wretches who expire. 

In agony, beneath these darts of fire. 

Ring through the city — while, descending o’er 
Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore, — 

Its lone bazaars, with their bright cloths of gold, 
Since the last peaceful pageant left unrolled, — 

Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets 
Now gush with blood, — and its tall minarets. 

That late have stood up in the evening glare 
Of the red sun, unhallowed by a prayer ; — 

O’er each, in turn, the dreadful flame-bolts fall,' 
And death and conflagration throughout all 
The desolate city hold high festival ! 

Mokanna sees the world is his no more ; — 

One sting at parting, and his grasp is o’er. 

“ What ! drooping now }” — thus, with unblushing 
cheek. 

He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak. 

Of all those famished slaves around him lying. 

And by the light of blazing temples dying ; — 

“ What ! — drooping now ? — now, when at length we 
press 

“ Home o’er the very threshold of success ; 

“*When Alla from our ranks hath thinned aw'ay 
“ Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray 

wild beasts and birds, which being then let loose, the air and earth 
appeared one great illumination ; and, as these terrified creatures 
naturally fled to the woods for shelter, it is easy to conceive the 
conflagrations they produced.” — Richardson' s Dissertation. 


146 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Of favor from us, and we stand at length 
“ Heirs of his light and children of his strength, 

“ The chosen few, who shall survive the fall 
“ Of Kings and Thrones, triumphant over all ! 

“ Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you are, 

“ All faith in him, who was your Light, your Star ? 

“ Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid 
“Beneath this Veil, the flashing of whose lid 
“ Could, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither 
“ Millions of such as yonder Chief brings hither ? 

“ Long have its lightnings slept — too long — but now 
“ All earth shall feel the’ unveiling of this brow ! 

“ To-night — yes, sainted men ! this very night, 

“ I bid you all to a fair festal rite, 

“ Where — having deep refreshed each weary limb 
“ With viands, such as feast Heaven’s cherubim, 

“ And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim, 

“ With that pure wine the Dark-eyed Maids above 
“ Keep, sealed with precious musk, for those they 
love,* — 

“ I will myself uncurtain in your sight 
“ The wonders of this brow’s ineffable light ; 

“ Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse 
“ Yon myriads, howling through the universe !” 

Eager they listen — while each accent darts 
New life into their chilled and hope-sick hearts ; 
Such treacherous life as the cool draught supplies 
To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies ! 

* “ The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, sealed ; 
the seal whereof shall be musk.” — Koran, chap. Ixxxiii. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


47 


Wildly they point their lances to the light 

Of the fast sinking sun, and shout “ To-night !” — 

“ To-night,” their Chief re-echoes in a voice 
Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice. 

Deluded victims ! — never hath this earth 
Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth. 
Here, to the few, whose iron frames had stood 
This racking waste of famine and of blood. 

Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout 
Of triumph like a maniac’s laugh broke out : — ' 
There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire. 
Danced, like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre. 
Among the dead and dying, strewed around 
While some pale wretch looked on, and from his 
wound 

Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled. 

In ghastly transport waved it o’er his head ! 

'Twas more than midnight now — a fearful pause 
Had followed the long shouts, the wild applause. 
That lately from those Royal Gardens burst. 

Where the Veiled demon held his feast accursed. 
When Zelica— alas ! poor ruined heart. 

In every horror doomed to bear its part ! — 

Was bidden to the banquet by a slave. 

Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave. 
Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave 
Compassed him round, and, ere he could repeat 
His message through, fell lifeless at her feet ! 
Shuddering she went — a soul-felt pang of fear, 

A presage that her own dark doom was near. 


148 


Lalla Rookh. 


Roused every feeling, and brought Reason back 
Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. 



Shuddering she went.” 


All round seemed tranquil — ev’n the foe had ceased. 
As if aware of that demoniac feast. 

His fiery bolts ; and though the Heavens looked red, 
’Twas but some distant conflagration’s spread. 


Veiled P^'ophet of Khorassan. 149 


But hark — she stops — she listens — dreadful tone ! 
’Tis her tormentor’s laugh — and now, a groan, 

A long death-groan comes with it : — can this be 
The place of mirth, the bower of revelry ? ^ 

She enters — Holy Alla, what a sight 
Was there before her ! By the glimmering light 
Of the pale dawn, mixed with the flare of brands 
That round lay burning, dropped from lifeless hands, 
She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread. 
Rich censers breathing — garlands overhead — 

The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaffed. 
All gold and gems, but — what had been the draught ? 
O ! who need ask, that saw those livid guests. 

With their swollen heads sunk blackening on their 
breasts. 

Or looking pale to Heaven with glassy glare. 

As if they sought but saw no mercy there ; 

As if they felt, though poison racked them .through. 
Remorse the deadlier torment of the two ! 

While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train 
Of their false Chief, who, on the battle-plain 
Would have met death with transport by his side. 
Here mute and helpless gasped ; — but, as they died. 
Looked horrible vengeance with their eyes’ last 
strain. 

And clenched the slackening hand at him in vain. 

Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare. 

The stony look of horror and despair. 

Which some of these expiring victims cast 
Upon their soul’s tormentor to the last ; — 


- Lalla Rookh. 


150 


Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now raised. 
Showed them, as in death’s agony they gazed. 

Not the long promised light, the brow, whose beam- 



ing 

Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming. 
But features horribler than Hell e’er traced 
On its own brood ; — no Demon of the Waste,* 

No churchyard Ghole, caught 
lingering in the light 
Of the bless’d sun, e’er blasted 
human sight 

With lineaments so foul, so 
fierce as those 

The’ Impostor now, in grin- 
ning mockery, shows : — 
“ There, ye wise Saints, be- 
hold your Light, your 
Star — 

“Ye would be dupes and victims, 
and ye are. 

* The Afghauns believe each of the nu- 
merous solitudes and deserts of their country 
to be Inhabited by a 
lonely demon, whom 
they call the Ghoolee 
Beeabau, or Spirit of 
the Waste. They often 
illustrate the wildness 
of any sequestered 
tribe, by saying, they 
are wild as the Demon 


of the Waste,” — El~ 


phinstone s Caubul. 


“ Rich censers breathing.” 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 15 1 


“ Is it enough ? or must I, while a thrill 
“ Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still ? 

“ Swear that the burning death ye feel within 
“ Is but the trance with which Heaven’s joys begin ; 
“ That this foul visage, foul as e’er disgraced 
“ Ev’n monstrous man, is — after God’s own taste ; 

“ And that — but see ! — ere I have half-way said 
“ My greetings through, the’ uncourteous souls are 
fled. 

“ Farewell, sweet spirits ! not in vain ye die, 

“ If Eblis loves you half so well as 1 . — 

“ Ha, my young bride ! — ’tis well — take thou thy seat > 
“ Nay, come — no shuddering — didst thou never meet 
“ The Dead before ? — they graced our wedding, 
sweet ; 

“ And these, my guests to-night, have brimmed so 
true 

“ Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too. 
“ But — how is this ? — all empty ? all drunk up ? 

“ Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, 

“ Young bride — yet stay — one precious drop re- 
mains, 

“ Enough to warm a gentle Priestess’ veins ; — 

“ Here, drink — and should thy lover’s conquering 
arms 

“ Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, 

“ Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, 

“ And I’ll forgive my haughty rival’s bliss ! 

“ For me — I too must die — but not like these 
“ Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze ; 


152 


Lalla Rookh. 


'‘To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, 

" With all death’s grimness added to its own, 

“ And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes 
“ Of slaves, exclaiming, ‘ There his Godship lies ! ’ 

“ No — cursed race — since first my soul drew breath, 
“ They’ve been my dupes, and shall be ev’n in death. 
“ Thou seest yon cistern in the shade — ’tis filled 
“ With burning drugs, for this last hour dis- 
tilled :* — 

“ There will I plunge me, in that liquid flame — 

“ Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet’s frame ! — 

“ There perish, all — ere pulse of thine shall fail — 

“ Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. 

“ So shall my votaries, wheresoe’er they rave, 

“ Proclaim that Heaven took back the Saint it 
gave 

“ That Pve but vanished from this earth awhile, 

“To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile ! 

“ So shall they build me altars in their zeal, 

“ Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel ; 
“ Where Faith may mutter o’er her mystic spell, 

“ Written in blood — and Bigotry may swell 
“ The sail he spreads for Heaven with blasts from 
hell! 

“ So shall my banner, through long ages, be 
“ The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy 

* “II donna du poison dans le vin a tons ses gens, et se jetta 
lui-meme ensuite dans une cuve pleine de drogues brulantes et con- 
sumantes, afm qu’il ne restat rien de tous les membres de son 
corps, et que ceux qui restoient de sa secte puissent croire qu’il 
etoit monte au ciel, ce qui ne manqua pas d’arriver.’’ — D' Herbelot. 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 153 


“ Kings yet unborn shall rue Mokanna’s name, 

“ And, though I die, my spirit, still the same, 

“ Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife, 

“ And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in life. 

“ But, hark ! their battering engine shakes the 
wall — 

“ Why, lei it shake — thus I can brave them all. 

“ No trace of me shall greet them, when they come, 
“ And I can trust thy faith, for — thou’lt be dumb. 

“ Now mark how readily a wretch like me, 

“ In one bold plunge, commences Deity !” 

He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said — ' 
Quick closed the burning waters o’er his head. 

And Zelica was left — within the ring 
Of those wide walls the only living thing ; 

The only wretched one, still curs’d with breath. 

In all that frightful wilderness of death ! 

More like some bloodless ghost — such as, they tell. 

In the Lone Cities of the Silent* dwell, 

And there, unseen of all but Alla, sit 
Each by its own pale carcass, watching it. 

But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs 
Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. 

Their globes of fire (the dread artillery lent 
By Greece to conquering Mahadi) are spent ; 

* “ They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, which 
they sometimes call by the poetical name of Cities of the Silent, 
and which they people with the ghosts of the departed, who sit 
each at the head of his own grave, invisible to mortal eyes.” — El- 
phi nstone. 


154 


Lalla Rookh. 


And now the scorpion’s shaft, the quarry sent 
From high balistas, and the shielded throng 
Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along, 

All speak the’ impatient Islamite’s intent 
To try, at length, if tower and battlement 
And bastioned wall be not less hard to win. 

Less tough to break down, than the hearts within. 
First in impatience and in toil is he. 

The burning AziM — O ! could he but see 
The’ Impostor once alive within his grasp. 

Not the gaunt lion’s hug, nor boa’s clasp. 

Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace 
With the fell heartiness of Hate’s embrace I 

Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls ; 
Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls. 

But still no breach — “ Once more, one mighty swing 
“ Of all your beams, together thundering !” 

There — the wall shakes — the shouting troops exult, 
“ Quick, quick discharge your weightiest catapult 
“ Right on that spot, and Neksheb is our own !” 
’Tis done — the battlements come crashing down, 
And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two. 
Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew. 

Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through. 

But strange ! no signs of life — nought living seen 
Above, below — what can this stillness mean } 

A minute’s pause suspends all hearts and eyes — 

“ In through the breach,” impetuous AziM cries ; 
But the cool Caliph, fearful of some wile 
In this blank stillness, checks the troops awhile. — 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 155 


Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanced 
Forth from the ruined walls, and, as there glanced 
A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see 
The well-known Silver Veil ! — “ ’Tis He, 'tis He, 

“ Mokanna, and alone !” they shout around ; 
Young Azim from his steed springs to the ground — 
“ Mine, Holy Caliph ! mine,” he cries, “ the task 
“To crush yon daring wretch — ’tis all I ask.” 

Eager he darts to meet the demon foe. 

Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow 
And falteringly comes, till they are near ; 

Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim’s spear. 

And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows — 

O ! — ’tis his Zelica’s life-blood that flows ! 

“ I meant not, Azim,” soothingly she said. 

As on his trembling arm she leaned her head, 

And, looking in his face, saw anguish there 
Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear — 

“ I meant not thou should’st have the pain of this : — 
“ Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss 
“ Thou would’st not rob me of, didst thou but 
know 

“ How oft I’ve prayed to God I might die so ! 

“ But the Fiend’s venom was too scant and slow ; — 
“To linger on were maddening — and I thought 
“If once that Veil — nay, look not on it — caught 
“ The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be 
“ Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly. 

“ But this is sweeter — O ! believe me, yes — 

“ I would not change this sad, but dear caress, 


Lalla Rookh. 


i5<5 


“ This death within thy arms I would not give 
“ For the most smiling life the happiest live ! 

“ All, that stood dark and drear before the eye 
“ Of my strayed soul, is passing swiftly by ; 

“ A light comes o’er me from those looks of love, 

“ Like the first dawn of mercy from above ; 

“ And if thy lips but fell me I’m forgiven, 

“ Angels will echo the blest words in Heaven ! 

“ But live, my AziM ; — O ! to call thee mine 
“ Thus once again ! my AziM — dream divine ! 

“ Live, if thou ever lov’dst me, if to meet 
“ Thy Zelica hereafter would be sweet, 

“ O, live to pray for her — to bend the knee 
“ Morning and night before that Deity, 

“To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, 

“ As thine are, Azim, never breathed in vain, — 

“ And pray that He may pardon her, — may take 
“ Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake, 

“ And, nought remembering but her love to thee, 

“ Make her all thine, all His, eternally ! 

“ Go to those happy fields where first we twined 
“ Our youthful hearts together — every wind 
“ That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known 
flowers, 

“ Will bring the sweetness of those innocent 
hours 

“ Back to thy soul, and thou may’st feel again 
“ For thy poor Zelica as thou didst then. 

“ So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies 
“To Heaven upon the morning’s sunshine, rise 
“ With all love’s earliest ardor to the skies ! 


Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. 


157 


“ And should they — but, alas ! my senses fail— 

“ O for one minute ! — should thy prayers prevail — 
“ If pardoned souls may, from that World of Bliss 
“ Reveal their joy to those they love in this — 



“ O Heaven— I die !’ 


“ I’ll come to thee — in some sweet dream — and tell- 
“ O Heaven — I die — dear love ! farewell, farewell.” 

Time fleeted — years on years had passed away. 
And few of those who, on that mournful day. 

Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see 
The maiden’s death, and the youth’s agony. 


Lalla Rookh, 


158 


Were living still — when, by a rustic grave, 

Beside the swift Amoo’s transparent wave, 

An aged man, who had grown aged there 
By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer. 
For the last time knelt down — and, though the shade 
Of death hung darkening over him, there played 
A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek. 

That brightened even Death — like the last streak 
Of intense glory on the horizon’s brim, 

When night o’er all the rest hangs chill and dim 
His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept ; 

She, for whose spirit he had prayed and wept 
So many years, had come to him, all dressed 
In angel smiles, and told him she was blessed ! 

For this the old man breathed his thanks, and died. — 
And there, upon the banks of that loved tide, 

He and his Zelica sleep side by side. 


Lalla Rookh. 


159 


The story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan 
being ended, they were now doomed to hear Fad- 
ladeen’s criticisms upon it. A series of disap- 
pointments and accidents had occurred to this learn- 
ed Chamberlain during the journey. In the first 
place, those couriers, stationed, as in the reign of 
Shah Jehan, between Delhi and the Western coast 
of India, to secure a constant supply of mangoes 
for the Royal Table, had, by some cruel irregularity, 
failed in their duty ; and to eat any mangoes but 
those of Mazagong was, of course, impossible.* In 
the next place, the elephant, laden with his fine 
antique porcelain,! had, in an unusual fit of liveli- 
ness, shattered the whole set to pieces : — an irrepara- 
ble loss, as many of the vessels were so exquisitely old, 

* “ The celebrity of Mazagong is owing to its mangoes, which are 
certainly the best fruit I ever tasted. The parent-tree, from 
which all those of this species have been grafted, is honored during 
the fruit-season by a guard of sepoys ; and, in the reign of Shah 
Jehan, couriers were stationed between Delhi and the Mahratta 
coast, to secure an abundant and fresh supply of mangoes for the 
royal table.” — Mrs. Graham's Journal of a Residence in India. 

t This old porcelain is found in digging, and “ if it is esteemed, 
it is not because it has acquired any new degree of beauty in the 
earth, but because it has retained its ancient beauty ; and this 
alone is of great importance in China, where they give large sums 
for the smallest vessels which were used under the Emperors Van 
and Chun, who reigned many ages before the dynasty of Tang, 
at which time porcelain began to be used by the Emperors,” 
(about the year 442.) — Dunn's Collection of Curious Observations, 
&c. ; — a bad translation of some parts of the Lettres Edifiantes 
et Curieuses of the Missionary Jesuits. 


i6o 


Lalla Rookh. 


as to have been used under the Emperors Yan and 
Chun, who reigned many ages before the dynasty of 
Tang. His Koran, too, supposed to be the identi- 
cal copy between the leaves of which Mahomet’s 
favorite pigeon used to nestle, had been mislaid by 
his Koran-bearer three whole days ; not without 
much spiritual alarm to Fadladeen, who, though 
professing to hold, with other loyal and orthodox 
Mussulmans, that salvation could only be found in 
the Koran, was strongly suspected of believing in 
his heart, that it could only be found in his own par- 
ticular copy of it. When to all these grievances is 
added the obstinacy of the cooks, in putting the pep- 
per of Canara into his dishes instead of the cinna- 
mon of Serendib, we may easily suppose that he 
came to the task of criticism with, at least, a suffi- 
cient degree of irritability for the purpose. 

“ In order,” said he, importantly swinging about 
his chaplet of pearls, “ to convey with clearness my 
opinion of the story this young man has related, it 
is necessary to take a review of all the stories that 
have ever ” — “My good Fadladeen!” ex- 

claimed the Princess, interrupting him, “we really 
do not deserve that you should give yourself so 
much trouble. Your opinion of the poem we have 
just heard, will, I have no doubt, be abundantly edi- 
fying, without any further waste of your valuable 
erudition.” — “If that be all,” replied the critic, — 
evidently mortified at not being allow'ed to show how 
much he knew about every thing, but the subject 


Lalla Rookh. 


i6i 


immediately before him — “ if that be all that is re- 
quired, the matter is easily despatched.” He then 
proceeded to analyze the poem, in that strain, (so 
well known to the unfortunate bards of Delhi,) 
whose censures were an infliction from which few 
recovered, and whose very praises were like the 
honey extracted from the bitter flow'ers of the aloe. 
The chief personages of the story w’ere, if he rightly 
understood them, an ill-favored gentleman, with a 
veil over his face ; — a young lady, whose reason 
went and came, according as it suited the poet’s 
convenience to be sensible or otherwise ; — and a 
youth in one of those hideous Bucharian bonnets, 
who took the aforesaid gentleman in a veil for a 
Divinity. “From such materials,” said he, “what 
can be expected ? — after rivalling each other in long 
speeches and absurdities, through some thousands 
of lines as indigestible as the filberts of Berdaa, our 
friend in the veil jumps into a tub of aquafortis ; the 
young lady dies in a set speech, whose only recom- 
mendation is that it is her last ; and the lover lives 
on to a good old age, for the laudable purpose of 
seeing her ghost, which he at last happily accom- 
plishes, and expires. This, you will allow, is a fair 
summary of the story ; and if Nasser, the Arabian 
merchant, told no better, our Holy Prophet (to 
whom be all honor and glory !) had no need to be 
jealous of his abilities for stor^'-telling.”* 


* “ La. lecture de ces Fables plaisoit si fort aux Arabes, que, 
quand Mahomet les entretenoit de I’Histoire de I’Ancien Testa- 
ment, ils les meprisoient, lui disant que celles que Nasser leur ra- 


i 62 


Lalla Rookh. 


With respect to the* style, it was worthy of the 
matter ; — it had not even those politic contrivances 
of structure, which make up for the commonness of 
the thoughts by the peculiarity of the manner, nor 
that stately poetical phraseology by which senti- 
ments mean in themselves, like the blacksmith’s* 
apron converted into a banner, are so easily gilt and 
embroidered into consequence. Then, as to the 
versification, it was, to say no worse of it, execrable ; 
it had neither the copious flow of F erdosi, the sweet- 
ness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of Sadi ; 
but appeared to him, in the uneasy heaviness of its 
movements, to have been modelled upon the gait of 
a very tired dromedary. The licenses, too, in which 
it indulged, were unpardonable ; — for instance this 
line, and the poem abounded with such, — 

Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. 

“What critic that can count,” said Fadladeen, 
“ and has his full complement of fingers to count 
withal, would tolerate for an instant such syllabic 
superfluities Y' — He here looked round, and discov- 
ered that most of his audience were asleep ; while 
the glimmering ■ lamps seemed inclined to follow 
their example. It became necessary*, therefore, how- 
ever painful to himself, to put an end to his valuable 
animadversions for the present, and he accordingly 

contoient etoient beaucoup plus belles. Cette preference attira a 
Nasser la malediction de Mahomet et te tous ses disciples.” — 
D' Her belot. 

* The blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the tyrant Zo- 
hak, and whose apron became the Royal Standard of Persia. 


Lalla Rookh. 


163 


concluded, with an air of dignified candor, thus : — 
“ Notwithstanding the observations which I have 
thought it my duty to make, h is by no means my 
wish to discourage the young man — so far from it, 
indeed, that if he will but totally alter his style of 
writing and thinking, I have very little doubt that I 
shall be vastly pleased with him.” 

Some days elapsed, after this harangue of the 
Great Chamberlain, before Lalla Rookh could 
venture to ask for another story. The youth was 
still a welcome guest in the pavilion — to 07ie heart, 
perhaps, too dangerously welcome ; — but all men- 
tion of poetr}^ was, as if by common consent, avoid- 
ed. Though none of the party had much respect 
for Fadladeen, yet his censures, thus magisterial- 
ly delivered, evidently made an impression on them 
all. The Poet himself, to whom criticism was 
quite a new operation, (being wholly unknown in 
that Paradise of the Indies, Cashmere,) felt the 
shock as it is generally felt at first, till use has made 
it more tolerable to the patient ; — the Ladies began 
to suspect that they ought not to be pleased, and 
seemed to conclude that there must have been much 
good sense in what Fadladeen said, from its hav- 
ing set them all so soundly to sleep ; — while the self- 
complacent Chamberlain was left to triumph in the 
idea of having, for the hundred and fiftieth time in 
his life, extinguished a Poet. Lalla Rookh alone 
— and Love knew why — persisted in being delighted 
with all she had heard, and in resolving to hear 


164 


Lalla Rookh. 


more as speedily as possible. Her manner, how- 
ever, of first returning to the subject was unlucky. 
It was while they rested, during the heat of noon, 
near a fountain, on which some hand had rudely 
traced those well-known words from the Garden of 
Sadi, — “ Many, like me, have viewed this fountain, 
but they are gone, and their eyes are closed for- 
ever !” — that she took occasion, from the melan- 
choly beauty of this passage, to dwell upon the 
charms of poetry in general. “ It is true,” she said, 
“ few poets can imitate that sublime bird, which flies 
always in the air, and never touches the earth :* — it 
is only once in many ages a Genius appears, whose 
words, like those on the Written Mountain, last for- 
ever :t — but still there are some, as delightful, per- 

* “ The huma, a bird peculiar to the East. It is supposed to 
fly constantly in the air, and never touch the ground ; it is looked 
upon as a biid of happy omen ; and that every head it overshades 
will in time wear a crown.” — Richardson. 

In the terms of alliance made by Fuzzel Oola Khan with Hj’der in 
1760, one of the stipulations was, ” that he should have the distinc- 
tion of two honorary attendants standing behind him, holding fans 
composed of the feathers of the huma, according to the practice of 
his family.” — Wilks's South of India. He adds in a note, — ” The 
huma is a fabulous bird. The head over which its shadow once 
passes will assuredly be circled with a crown. The splendid little 
bird suspended over the throne of Tippoo Sultaun, found at Ser- 
ingapatam in 1799, was intended to represent this poetical fancy.” 

t “ To the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the in- 
scriptions, figures, &c., on those rocks, which have from thence 
acquired the name of the Written Mountain.” — V'olney. M. Ge- 
belin and others have been at much pains to attach some mysteri- 
ous and important meaning to these inscriptions ; but Niebubr, as 
well as Volney, thinks that they must have been executed at idle 
hours by the travellers to Mount Sinai, ” who were satisfied with 


Lalla Rookh. 


165 


haps, though not so wonderful, who, if not stars 
over our head, are at least flowers along our path, 
and whose sweetness of the moment we ought 
gratefully to inhale, without calling upon them for 
a brightness and a durability beyond their nature. 
In short,” continued she, blushing, as if conscious 
of being caught in an oration, “ it is quite cruel that 
a poet cannot wander through his regions of en- 
chantment, without having a critic forever, like the 
old Man of the Sea, upon his back !”* — Fadladeen, 
it was plain, took this last luckless allusion to him- 
self, and would treasure it up in his mind as a whet- 
stone for his next criticism. A sudden silence en- 
sued ; and the Princess, glancing a look at Fera- 
MORZ, saw plainly she must wait for a more cour- 
ageous moment. 

But the glories of Nature, and her wild, fragrant 
airs, playing freshly over the current of youthful 
spirits, will soon heal even deeper wounds than the 
dull Fadladeens of this world can inflict. In an 
evening or two after, they came to the small Valley 
of Gardens, which had been planted by order of the 
Emperor, for his favorite sister Rochinara, during 
their progress to Cashmere, some years before ; and 
never was there a more sparkling assemblage of 


cutting the unpolished rock with any pointed instrument ; adding 
to their names and the date of their journeys some rude figures, 
which bespeak the hand of a people but little skilled in the arts.” 
— Niebuhr, 

* The Story of Sindbad. 


i66 


Lalla Rookh. 


sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, or Rose-bower of 
Irem. Every precious flower was there to be found, 
that poetry, or love, or religion, has ever consecrated ; 
from the dark hyacinth, to which Hafez compares _ 
his mistress’s hair,* to the Cdmalatd, by whose rosy 
blossoms the Heaven of Indra is scented.f As they 
sat in the cool fragrance of this delicious spot, and 
Lalla Rookh remarked that she could fancy it the 
abode of that Flower-loving Nymph whom they 
worship in the temples of Kathay,J or of one of 
those Peris, those beautiful creatures of the air, who 
live upon perfumes, and to whom a place like this 
might make some amends for the Paradise they have 
lost, — the young Poet, in whose eyes she appeared, 
while she spoke, to be one of the bright spiritual 
creatures she was describing, said, hesitatingly, that 
he rerhembered a Story of a Peri, which, if the Prin- 


* See Nott's Hafez, Ode v. 

t “ The Camalata (called by Linnaeus, Ipomaea) is the most 
beautiful of its order, both in the color and form of its leaves and 
flowers ; its elegant blossoms are ‘ celestial rosy red, Love’s proper 
hue,’ and have justly procured it the name of Camalata, or Love’s 
Creeper .” — Sir W. Jones. 

“ Camalata may also mean a mythological plant, by which all 
desires are granted to such as inhabit the heaven of Indra ; and 
if ever flower was worthy of paradise, it is our charming Ipomaea.” 
—lb. 

X “ According to Father Premare, in his tract on Chinese 
Mythology, the mother of Fo-hi was the daughter of Heaven, sur- 
named Flower-loving ; and, as the nymph was walking alone on 
the bank of a river, she found herself encircled by a rainbow, after 
which she became pregnant, and, at the end of twelve years, was 
delivered of a son radiant as herself.” — Asiat. Res. 


Lalla Rookh. 




cess had no objection, he would venture to relate. 
“ It is,” said he, with an appealing look to Fadla- 
DEEN, “in a lighter and humbler strain than the 
other then, striking a few careless but melancholy- 
chords on his kitar, he thus began : — 





0 


I 












PARADISE AND THE PERI. 


One morn a Peri, at the gate 
Of Eden stood, disconsolate ; 

And as she listened to the Springs 
Of Life within, like music flowing. 

And caught the light upon her wings 
Through the half-open portal glowing. 

She wept to think her recreant race 
Should e’er have lost that glorious place ! 

“ How happy,” exclaimed this child of air, 

“ Are the holy Spirits who wander there, 

“ ’Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall ! 

“ Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, 
“ And the stars themselves have flowers for me, 

“ One blossom of Heaven outblooms them all ! 

“ Though sunny the Lake of cool Cashmere, 

“ With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear,* 


* “ Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of Cashmere. 
One is called Char Chenaur, from the plane-trees upon it.” — 
Foster. 





Paradise and the Peri. 


173 


“ And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall ; 

“ Though bright are the waters of Sing-SU-hay, 
“ And the golden floods that thitherward stray,* 

“ Yet — O, ’tis only the Bless’d can say 

“ How the waters of Heaven outshine them all ! 


“ Go, wing thy flight from star to star, 

“ From world to luminous world, as far 
“ As the universe spreads its flaming wall 
“ Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, 

“ And multiply each through endless years, 

“ One minute of Heaven is worth them all !” 


The glorious Angel, who was keeping 
The gates of Light, beheld her weeping ; 
And, as he nearer drew and listened 
To her sad song, a tear-drop glistened 
Within his eyelids, like the spray 
From Eden’s fountain, when it lies 
On the blue flower, which — Bramins say — 
Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.! 


* “ The Allan Kol or Golden River of Tibet, which runs into the 
Lakes of Sing-su-hay, has abundance of gold in its sands, which 
employs the inhabitants all the summer in gathering it.” — De- 
scription of Tibet in Pinkerton. 

t “ The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue campac 
flowers only in Paradise.”— i'zV W. Jones. It appears, however, 
from a curious letter of the Sultan of Menangcabow, given by 
Marsden, that one place on earth may lay claim to the possession 
of it. “ This is the Sultan, who keeps the flower champaka that 
is blue, and to be found in no other country but his, being yellow 
elsewhere.” — Marsden' s Sumatra. 


174 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Nymph of a fair but erring line !” 

Gently he said — “ One hope is thine. 

“ ’Tis written in the Book of Fate, 

“ The Peri yet may be forgiven 
“ Who brmgs to this Eter7ial Gate 

“ The Gift that is most dear to Heave ft / 

“ Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin — 

“ ’Tis sweet to let the Pardoned in.” 

Rapidly as comets run 
To the’ embraces of the Sun, 

Fleeter than the starry brands 
Flung at night from angel hands* 

At those dark and daring sprites 
Who would climb the’ empyreal heights, 

Down the blue vault the Peri flies. 

And, lighted earthward by a glance 
That just then broke from morning’s eyes. 

Hung hovering o’er our world’s expanse. 

But whither shall the Spirit go 

To find this gift for Heaven ? — “ I know 

“ The wealth,” she cries, “ of every urn, 

“ In which unnumbered rubies burn, 

“ Beneath the pillars of Chilminar ;t 

* “ The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands 
wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, when they ap- 
proach too near the empyrean or verge of the Heavens.” — Fryer. 

t The Forty Pillars ; so the Persians call the ruins of Persepolis. 
It is imagined by them that this palace and the edifices at Balbec 
were built by Genii, for the purpose of hiding in their subterrane- 
ous caverns immense treasures, which still remain there. — D' Her- 
belot., Volney. 


Paradise and the Peri. 


175 


“ I know where the Isles of Perfume are,* * * § 

“ Many a fathom down in the sea, 

“To the south of sun-bright Araby ;t 
“ I know, too, where the Genii hid 
“ The jewelled cup of their King Jamshid,J; 

“ With Life’s elixir sparkling high. 

“ But gifts like these are not for the sky : 

“ Where was there ever a gem that shone 
“ Like the steps of Alla’s wonderful Throne } 

“ And the Drops of Life — O ! what would they be 
“ In the boundless Deep of Eternity 

While thus she mused, her pinions fanned 
The air of that sweet Indian land. 

Whose air is balm ; whose ocean spreads 
O’er coral rocks, and amber beds ;§ 

Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam 
Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem ; 

* Diodorus mentions the Isle of Panchaia, to the south of Arabia 
Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter. This island, or rather 
cluster of isles, has disappeared, sunk, says Grandd'r^y “in the 
abyss made by the fire beneath their foundations.’’ — Voyage to the 
Indian Ocean. 

t The Lies of Panchaia. 

X “ The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when digging for 
the foundations of Persepolis.” — Richardson. 

§ “ It is not like the Sea of India, whose bottom is rich with 
pearls and ambergris, whose mountains of the coast are stored with 
gold and precious stones, whose gulfs breed creatures that yield 
ivory, and among the plants of whose shores are ebony, red wood, 
and the wood of Hairzan, aloes, camphor, cloves, sandal-wood, and 
all other spices and aromatics ; where parrots and peacocks are 
birds of the forest, and musk and civet are collected upon the 
lands.” — Travels of Two Mohammedans. 


176 


Lalla Rookh, 


Whose rivulets are like rich brides, 

Lovely, with gold beneath their tides ; 

Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice 
Might be a Peri’s Paradise ! 

But crimson now her rivers ran 

With human blood — the smell of death 
Came reeking from those spicy bowers. 

And man, the sacrifice of man. 

Mingled his taint with every breath 
Upwafted from the innocent flowers. 

Land of the Sun ! what foot invades 
Thy Pagods and thy pillared shades* — 

Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones. 

Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones ?t 
’Tis He of GaznaJ — fierce in wrath 
He comes, and India’s diadems 
Lie scattered in his ruinous path. — 

His bloodhounds he adorns with gems. 

Torn from the violated necks 

Of many a young and loved Sultana ;§ 

* in the ground 

The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
About the mother-tree , a pillared shade. 

High over-arched, and echoing walks between. — Milton. 

For a particular description and plate of the Banyan-tree, see 
Cordiner's Ceylon. 

t “ With this immense treasure Mamood returned toGhizni, and 
in the year 400 prepared a magnificent festival, where he displayed 
to the people his wealth in golden thrones and in other ornaments, 
in a great plain without the city of Ghizni.” — Ferishta. 

X “ Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India in the 
beginning of the iith century.” — See his History in Dow and Sir 
/. Malcolm. 

§ “It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mah- 


Paradise and the Peri. 


177 


Maidens, within their pure Zenana, 
Priests in the very fane he slaughters. 
And chokes up with the glittering wrecks 
Of golden shrines the sacred waters ! 

Downward the Peri turns her gaze. 

And, through the war-field’s bloody haze 
Beholds a youthful warrior stand. 

Alone beside his native river, — 

The red blade broken in his hand. 

And the last arrow in his quiver. 

“ Live,” said the Conqueror, “ live to share 
“ The trophies and the crowns 1 bear !” 
Silent that youthful warrior stood — 

Silent he pointed to the flood 

All crimson with his country’s blood. 

Then sent his last remaining dart. 

For answer, to the’ Invader’s heart. 

False fiew the shaft, though pointed well; 
The Tyrant lived, the Hero fell ! — 

Yet marked the Peri where he lay. 

And, when the rush of war was past. 
Swiftly descending on a ray 

Of morning light, she caught the last — 
Last glorious drop his heart had shed. 
Before its free-born spirit fled ! 


mood was so magnificent, that he kept 400 greyhounds and blood- 
hounds, each of which wore a collar set with jewels, and a covering 
edged with gold and pearls,”— Universal History', vol. iii. 


178 


Lalla Rookh, 



“ Be this,” she cried, as she winged her flight, 
“ My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. 

“ Though foul are the drops that oft distil 
“ On the field of warfare, blood like this, 

“ For Liberty shed, so holy is,* 


* Objections may be made to my use of the word Liberty in this, 
and more especially in the story that follows it, as totally inapplic- 
able to any state of things that has ever existed in the East ; but 
though I cannot, of course, mean to employ it in that enlarged and 
noble sense which is so well understood at the present day, and, I 
grieve to say, so little acted upon, yet it is no disparagement to the 
word to apply it to that national Independence, that freedom from 


Paradise and the Pert. 


179 


“ It would not stain the purest rill, 

“ That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss ! 

“ O, if there be, on this earthly sphere, 

“ A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, 

“ ’Tis the last libation Liberty draws 
“ From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her 
cause !” 


“ Sweet,” said the Angel, as she gave 
The gift into his radiant hand, 

“ Sweet is our welcome of the Brave 
“ Who die thus for their native Land. — 
“ But see — alas ! — the crj^stal bar 
“ Of Eden moves not — holier far 
“ Than ev’n this drop the boon must be, 

“ That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee !” 


Her first fond hope of Eden blighted. 

Now among Afric’s lunar Mountains,* 
Far to the South, the Peri lighted ; 

And sleeked her plumage at the fountains 
Of that Egyptian tide — whose birth 


the interference and dictation of foreigners, without which, in- 
deed, no liberty of any kind can exist ; and for which both Hin- 
doos and Persians fought against their Mussulman invaders with, 
in many cases, a bravery that deserved much better success. 

* '* The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunae of antiq- 
uity, at the foot of which the Nile is supposed to arise.” — Bruce. 

“Sometimes called,” says Jackson, “ Jibbel Kumrie, or the 
white or lunar-colored mountains ; so a white horse is called by the 
Arabians a moon-colored horse.” 


i8o 


Lalla Rookh. 



“ Hangs listening to the doves in warm 
Rosetta’s vale.” 


Is hidden from the 
sons of earth 
Deep in those solitary 
woods, 

Where oft the Genii 
of the Floods 
Dance round the cra- 
dle of their Nile, 
And hail the new- 
born Giant’s 
smile.’*' 

Thence over Egypt’s 
palmy groves. 
Her grots, and sep- 
ulchres of 
Kings,t 

The exiled Spirit sigh- 
ing roves ; 

And now hangs list- 
ening to the 
doves 

* ” The Nile, which the 
Abyssinians know by the 
names of Abey and Alawy, 
or the Giant.” — Asiat. Re- 
search, vol. i. p. 387. 

+ See Perry's View of the 
Levant for an account of 
the sepulchres in Upper 
Thebes, and the number- 
less grots, covered all over 
with hieroglyphics, in the 
mountains of Upper Egypt. 



Paradise and the Peri. 


i8i 


In warm Rosetta’s vale* * * § — now loves 
To watch the moonlight on the wings 
Of the white pelicans that break 
The azure calm of Moeris’ Lake.t 
’Tw'as a fair scene — a Land more bright 
Never did mortal eye behold ! 

Who could have thought, that saw this night 
Those valleys and their fruits of gold 
Basking in Heaven’s serenest light ; — 

Those groups of lovely date-trees bending 
Languidly their leaf-crowned heads. 

Like youthful maids, when sleep descending 
Warns them to their silken beds — 

Those virgin lilies, all the night 
Bathing their beauties in the lake. 

That they may rise more fresh and bright. 
When their beloved Sun’s awake ; — 

Those ruined shrines and towers that seem 
The relics of a splendid dream ; 

Amid whose fairy loneliness 
Nought but the lapwing’s cry is heard. 
Nought seen but (when the shadows, flitting 
Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam,) 
Some purple-winged Sultana§ sitting 


* “ The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves.” — 
Sonnini. 

t Savary mentions the pelicans upon Lake Moeris. 

X ” The superb date-tree, whose head languidly reclines, like that 
of a handsome woman overcome with sleep.” — Da/ard el Iladad. 

§ “ That beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shining blue, 
with purple beak and legs, the natural and living ornament of the 
temples and palaces of the Greeks and Romans, which, from the 


182 


Lalla Rookh. 



Upon a column, motionless 
And glittering like an Idol bird ! — 
Who could have thought, 
that there, ev’n there. 
Amid those scenes so still 
and fair. 

The Demon of the Plague 
hath cast 

From his hot wing a dead- 
lier blast. 

More mortal far than 
ever came 

From the red Desert's 
sands of flame ! 
Those virgin lilies.” So quick, that every 

living thing 

Of human shape, touched by his wing. 

Like plants, where the Simoom hath passed, 

At once falls black and withering ! 


The sun went down on many a brow. 
Which, full of bloom and freshness then, 
Is rankling in the pest-house now, 

And ne’er will feel that sun again. 

And, O ! to see the’ unburied heaps 
On which the lonely moonlight sleeps -* 
The very vultures turn away. 

And sicken at so foul a prey I 


stateliness of its port, as well as the brilliancy of its colors, has 
obtained the title of Sultana.” — Sonnini. 


Paradise and the Peri. 


183 


Only the fierce hyaena stalks* 

Throughout the city’s desolate walksf 
At midnight, and his carnage plies : 

Woe to the half-dead wretch, who meets 
The glaring of those large blue eyesf 
Amid the darkness of the streets ! 

“ Poor race of men !” said the pitying Spirit, 

“ Dearly ye pay for your primal Fall — ■ 

“ Some flowerets of Eden ye still inherit, 

“ But the trail of the Serpent is over them all !” 
She wept — the air grew pure and clear 
Around her, as the bright drops ran ; 

For there’s a magic in each tear. 

Such kindly Spirits weep for man ! 

Just then beneath some orange-trees. 

Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze 
Were wantoning together, free. 

Like age at play with infancy — 

Beneath that fresh and springing bower. 

Close by the Lake, she heard the moan 


* Jackson, speaking of the plague that occurred in West Bar- 
bary, when he was there, says, “ The birds of the air fled away 
from the abodes of men. The hyaenas, on the contrary, visited 
the cemeteries,” &c. 

t ” Gondar was full of hyaenas from the time it turned dark, till 
the dawn of day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered car- 
casses, which this cruel and unclean people expose in the streets 
without burial, and who firmly believe that these animals are 
Falashta from the neighboring mountains, transformed by magic, 
and come down to eat human flesh in the dark in safety.” — Bruce. 

% Bruce, 


184 


Lalla Rookh. 



Of one who, at this silent hour. 

Had thither stolen to die alone. 

One who in life, where’er he moved. 

Drew after him the hearts of many ; 

Yet now, as though he ne’er were loved. 
Dies here unseen, unwept by any ! 

None to watch near him — none to slake 
The fire that in his bosom lies. 

With ev’n a sprinkle from that lake. 
Which shines so cool before his eyes. 
No voice, well known through many a da) 
To speak the last, the parting word. 
Which, when all other sounds decay. 

Is still like distant music heard ; — 

That tender farewell on the shore 
Of this rude world, when all is o’er. 

Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark 
Puts off into the unknown Dark. 

Deserted youth ! one thought alone 
Shed joy around his soul in death — 
That she, whom he for years had known. 


Paradise aiid the Peri, 


185 



“She, who would rather die with him.” 


And loved, and'might have called his own. 

Was safe from this foul midnight’s breath, — 
Safe in her father’s princely halls. 

Where the cool airs from fountain falls. 

Freshly perfumed by many a brand 
Of the sweet wood from India’s land. 

Were pure as she whose brow they fanned. 

But see — who yonder comes by stealth,* 

This melancholy bower to seek. 

Like a young envoy, sent by Health, 

With rosy gifts upon her cheek } 

’Tis she — far off, through moonlight dim. 

He knew his own betrothed bride, 

* This circumstance has been often introduced into poetry 
by Vincentius Fabricius, by Darwin, and lately, with very power- 
ful effect, by Mr. Wilson. 


Lalla Rookh. 


1 86 


She, who would rather die with him. 

Than live to gain the world beside*! — 

Her arms are round her lover now. 

His livid cheek to hers she presses, 

And dips, to bind his burning brow. 

In the cool lake her loosened tresses. 

Ah ! once, how little did he think 

An hour would come, when he should shrink 

With horror from that dear embrace. 

Those gentle arms, that were to him 
Holy as is the cradling place 
Of Eden’s infant cherubim ! 

And now he yields — now turns away. 
Shuddering as if the venom lay 
All in those proffered lips alone — 

Those lips that, then so fearless grown. 

Never until that instant came 
Near his unasked or without shame. 

“ O I let me only breathe the air, 

“ The blessed air, that’s breathed by thee, 

“ And, whether on its wings it bear 
“ Healing or death, ’tis sweet to me 1 
“ There — drink my tears, while yet they fall — 
“ Would that my bosom’s blood were balm ! 
“ And, well thou know’st. I’d shed it all, 

“ To give thy brow one minute’s calm. 

“ Nay, turn not from me that dear face — 

“ Am I not thine — thy own loved bride — 

“ The one, the chosen one, whose place 
“ In life or death is by thy side ? 

“ Think’st thou that she, whose only light. 


Paradise and the Peri. 


187 


“ In this dim world, from thee hath shone, 

“ Could bear the long, the cheerless night, 

“ That must be hers when thou art gone ? 

“ That I can live, and let thee go, 

“ Who art my life itself? — No, no — 

“ When the stem dies, the leaf that grew 
“ Out of its heart must perish too ! 

“ Then turn to me, my own love, turn, 

“ Before, like thee, I fade and burn ; 

“ Cling to these yet cool lips, and share 
“ The last pure life that lingers there !” 

She fails — she sinks — as dies the lamp 
In charnel airs, or cavern-damp. 

So quickly do his baleful sighs 
Quench all the sweet light of her eyes. 

One struggle — and his pain is past — 

Her lover is no longer living ! 

One kiss the maiden gives, one last. 

Long kiss, which she expires in giving ! 

“ Sleep," said the Peri, as softly she stole 
The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul. 

As true as e’er warmed a woman’s breast — 

“ Sleep on, in visions of odor rest, 

“ In balmier airs than ever yet stirred 
“ The’ enchanted pile of that lonely bird, 

“ Who sings at the last his own death-lay,* 

“ And in music and perfume dies away !’’ 

* “ In the East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty orifices 
in his bill, which are continued to his tail ; and that, after living 
one thousand years, he builds himself a funeral pile, sings a melo- 
dious air of different harmonies through his fifty organ pipes, flaps 


i88 


Lalla Rookh. 


Thus saying, from her lips she spread 
Unearthly breathings through the place, 

And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed 
Such lustre o’er each paly face. 

That like two lovely saints they seemed. 

Upon the eve of doomsday taken 
F rom their dim graves, in odor sleeping ; 

While that benevolent Peri beamed 
Like their good angel, calmly keeping 
Watch o’er them till their souls would waken. 

But mom is blushing in the sky ; 

Again the Peri soars above. 

Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh 
Of pure, self-sacrificing love. 

High throbbed her heart, with hope elate. 

The Elysian palm she soon shall win. 

For the bright Spirit at the gate 
Smiled as she gave that offering in ; 

And she already hears the trees 
Of Eden, with their crystal bells 
Ringing in that ambrosial breeze 

That from the throne of Alla swells ; 

And she can see the starry bowls 
That lie around that lucid lake. 

Upon whose banks admitted Souls 
Their first sweet draught of glofy take !* 

his wings with a velocity which sets fire to the wood, and con- 
sumes himself.” — Richardson. 

* ” On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand 
goblets, made of stars, out of which souls predestined to enjoy fe- 


Paradise and the Peri. 


189 


But, ah ! even Peris’ hopes are vain- ^ 

Again the Fates forbade, again 

The’ immortal barrier closed — “ Not yet,” 

The angel said as, with regret. 

He shut from her that glimpse of glory — 

“ True was the maiden, and her story, 

“ Written in light o’er Alla’s head, 

“ By seraph eyes shall long be read. 

“ But, Peri, see — the ciy'stal bar 
“ Of Eden moves not — holier far 
“ Than ev’n this sigh the boon must be 
“ That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee.” 

Now, upon Syria’s land of roses* 

Softly the light of Eve reposes. 

And, like a glory, the broad sun 
Hangs over sainted Lebanon ; 

Whose head in wintry grandeur towers. 

And whitens with eternal sleet. 

While summer, in a vale of flowers. 

Is sleeping rosy at his feet. 

To one, who looked from upper air 
O’er all the’ enchanted regions there. 

How beauteous must have been the glow. 

The life, the sparkling from below ! 

licity drink the crystal wave.” — From Chateaubriand' s Descrip- 
tion of the Mahometan Paradise, in his Beauties of Christianity. 

* Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a beau- 
tiful and delicate species of rose, for which that country has been 
always famous : — hence, Suristan, the Land of Roses. 


190 


Lalla Rookh. 



Fair gardens, 
shining 
streams, with 
ranks 

Of golden melons 
on their banks. 

More golden 
where the sun- 
light falls ; — 

Gay lizards, glit- 
tering on the 
walls* 

Of ruined shrines, 
busy and 
bright 

As they were all 
alive with 
light 

And, yet more 
splendid, nu- 
merous flocks 

Of pigeons, set- 
tling on the 
rocks. 

With their rich 
restless wings, 
that gleam 


Variously in the crimson beam 


* “ The number of lizards I saw one day in the great court of 
the Temple of the Sun at Balbec amounted to many thousands ; 
the ground, the walls, and stones of the ruined buildings, were 
covered with them."’ — Bruce, 




l.«S . .. 


Paradise and the Peri. 


191 



Of the warm West, — as if inlaid 
With brilliants from the mine, or made 
Of tearless rainbows, such as 
span 

The’ unclouded skies of Peris- 
TAN. 

And then the mingling sounds 
that come. 


Of shepherd’s ancient 
reed,* with hum 
Of the wild bees of Pal- 
estine,! 

Banquetting through the flow- 
ery vales ; 

And, Jordan, those sw'eet banks 
of thine. 

And woods, so full of nightingales.]; 


Her soul is sad — her 

WINGS ARE WEARY.” 


* “ The Syrinx or Pan’s pipe is still a pastoral instrument in 
Sy ria — Russel. 

t“Wild bees, frequent in Palestine, in hollow trunks or 
branches of trees, and the clefts of rocks. Thus it is said, (Psalm 
Ixxxi.,) ‘ honey out oj" the stony rock' ” — Burders Oriental 
Customs. 

^ “ The river Jordan is on both sides beset with little, thick, and 


192 


Lalla Rookh. 


But nought can charm the luckless Peri ; 

Her soul is sad — her wings are wear}’-— 

Joyless she sees the Sun look down 
On that great Temple,, once his own,* 

Whose lonely columns stand sublime. 

Flinging their shadows from on high. 

Like dials, which the wizard. Time, 

Had raised to count his ages by ! 

Yet haply there may lie concealed 
Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, 

Some amulet of gems, annealed 
In upper fires, some tablet sealed 
With the great name of SOLOMON, 

Which, spelled by her illumined eyes. 

May teach her where, beneath the moon. 

In earth or ocean, lies the boon. 

The charm, that can restore so soon 
♦ An erring Spirit to the skies. 

Cheered by this hope, she bends her thither : — 
Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, 

Nor have the golden bowers of Even 
In the rich West begun to wither; — 

When, o’er the vale of Balbec winofinof 
Slowly, she sees a child at play. 

Among the rosy wild flowers singing. 

As rosy and as wild as they ; 


pleasant woods, among which thousands of nightingales warble all 
together.” — Thevenot, 

* The Temple of the Sun at Balbec, 


Paradise and the Peri. 


193 



Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, 

The beautiful blue damsel-flies,* 

* “ You behold there a considerable number of a remarkable 
species of beautiful insects, the elegance of whose appearance and 
their attire, procured for them the name of Damsels. ’ Sonnint. 


194 


Lalla Rookh. 


That fluttered round the jasmine stems, 
Like winged flowers or flying gems ; — 
And, near the boy, who, tired with play, 
Now nestling ’mid the roses lay. 

She saw a wearied man dismount 
From his hot steed, and on the brink 
Of a small imaret’s rustic fount* 

Impatient fling him down tp drink. 
Then swift his haggard brow he turned 
To the fair child, who fearless sat. 
Though never yet hath day-beam burned 
Upon a brow more fierce than that, — 
Sullenly fierce — a mixture dire. 

Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire ; 
In which the Peri’s eye could read 
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed ; 

The ruined maid — the shrine profaned — 
Oaths broken — and the threshold stained 
With blood of guests ! — there written, all. 
Black as the damning drops that fall 
From the denouncing Angel’s pen. 

Ere Mercy weeps them out again. 


Yet tranquil now that man of crime 
(As if the balmy evening time 
Softened his spirit) looked and lay. 
Watching the rosy infant’s play : — 


* Imaret, “ hospice oil on loge el nourrit, gratis, les pelerins pen- 
dant trois jours.” — Toderini, translated by the Abb^ de Cour- 
nand.—See also Castellan's Moeurs des Othomans, tom. v. p. 145. 


Paradise and the Peri. 


195 


Though still, whene’er his eye by chance 
Fell on the boy’s, its lurid glance 
Met that unclouded, joyous gaze. 

As torches, that have burnt all night 
Through some impure and godless rite. 
Encounter morning’s glorious rays. 

But, hark ! the vesper call to prayer. 

As slow the orb of daylight sets. 

Is rising sweetly on the air. 

From Syria’s thousand minarets ! 

The boy has started from the bed 
Of flowers, where he had laid his head. 
And down upon the fragrant sod 

Kneels,* with his forehead to the south, 
Lisping the’ eternal name of God 
From Purity’s own cherub mouth. 

And looking, while his hands and eyes 
Are lifted to the glowing skies, 


* “ Such Turks as at the common hours of prayer are on the 
road, or so employed as not to find conv'cnience to attend the 
mosques, are still obliged to execute that duty ; nor are they ever 
known to fail, whatever business they are then about, but pray 
immediately when the hour alarms them, whatever they are about, 
in that very place they chance to stand on ; insomuch that when a 
janissary, whom you have to guard you up and down the city, 
hears the notice which is given him from the steeples, he will turn 
about, stand still, and beckon with his hand, to tell his charge he 
must have patience for a while ; when, taking out his handker- 
chief, he spreads it on the ground, sits cross-legged thereupon, and 
says his prayers, though in the open market, which having ended, 
he leaps briskly up, salutes the person whom he undertook to con- 
vey, and renews his journey with the mild expression of Ghell 
gohnnum ghelly or Come, dear, follow me .” — Aaron Hill's 
Travels. . 


196 


Lalla Rookh. 



And how felt he, the 
wretched Man 
Reclining there — 
while memory 
ran 

O’er many a year of 
guilt and strife, 

From Syria’s thousand minarets.” , , , , 

Flew o er the dark 
flood of his life, 

Nor found one sunny resting-place. 

Nor brought him back one branch of grace ? 

“ There was a time,” he said, in mild. 
Heart-humbled tones, “ thou blessed child ! 

“ When, young, and haply pure as thou, 


Like a stray babe of 
Paradise, 

Just lighted on that 
flowery plain. 
And seeking for its 
home again. 

O ! ’twas a sight — 
that Heaven — 
that child — 

A scene, which 
might have well 
beguiled 

Even haughty Eb- 
LIS of a sigh 
For glories lost and 
peace gone by ! 


Paradise and the Peri. 


197 


“ I looked and prayed like thee — but now — ” 

He hung his head — each nobler aim. 

And hope, and feeling, which had slept 
From boyhood’s hour, that instant came 
F'resh o’er him, and he wept — he wept ! 

Blest tears of soul-felt penitence ! 

In whose benign, redeeming flow 
Is felt the first, the only sense 

Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. 

“ There’s a drop,” said the Peri, “ that down from 
the moon 

“ Falls through the withering airs of June 
“ Upon Egypt’s land,* of so healing a power, 

“ So balmy a virtue, that ev’n in the hour 
“ That drop descends, contagion dies, 

“ And health re-animates earth and skies ! — 

“ O, is it not thus, thou man of sin, 

“ The precious tears of repentance fall ? 

“ Though foul thy fiery plagues within, 

“ One heavenly drop hath dispelled them all !” 

And now — behold him kneeling there 
By the child’s side, in humble prayer. 

While the same sunbeam shines upon 
The guilty and the guiltless one. 

And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven 
The triumph of a Soul Forgiven ! 

* The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt precise- 
ly on St. John’s day, in June, and is supposed to have the effect 
of stopping the plague. 


198 


Lalla Rookh. 


’Twas when the golden orb had set, 
While on their knees they lingered yet, 
There fell a light more lovely far 
Than ever came from sun or star, 
Upon the tear that, warm and meek. 
Dewed that repentant sinner’s cheek. 
To mortal eye this light might seem 
A northern flash of meteor beam — 
But well the’ enraptured Peri knew 
’Twas a bright smile the Angel threw 
From Heaven’s Gate, to hail that tear 
Her harbinger of glory near ! 


“ Joy, joy forever ! my task is done — 

“ The Gates are passed, and Heaven is won ! 
“ O ! am I not happy ? I am, I am — 

“ To thee, sweet Eden ! how dark and sad 
“ Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,* 

“ And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad 


“ Farewell, ye odors of Earth, that die 
“ Passing away like a lover’s sigh ; — 

“ My feast is now of the Tooba Tree,t 
“ Whose scent is the breath of Eternity ! 


* The Country of Delight — the name of a province in the king- 
dom of Jinnistan, or Fairy Land, the capital of which is called the 
City of Jewels. Amberabad is another of the cities of Jinnistan. 

+ The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace of Ma- 
homet. See Sa/f's Prelim. Disc. — Tooba, says D' Herbelot^ ^\%- 
nifies beatitude, or eternal happiness. 





r 


'k 



200 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone 
“ In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief ; — 

“ O ! what are the brightest that e’er have blown, 
“ To the lote-tree, springing by Alla’s throne,* 
“ Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf ! 

“ Joy, joy forever ! — my task is done — 

“ The Gates are passed, and Heaven is won !” 


* Mahomet is described, in the 53d chapter of the Koran, as 
having seen the angel Gabriel “ by the lote-tree, beyond which 
there is no passing : near it is the Garden of Eternal Abode.” This 
tree, say the commentators, stands in the seventh Heaven, on the 
right hand of the Throne of God. 


Lalla RookJi. 


201 


“ And this,” said the Great Chamberlain, “is po- 
etry ! this flimsy manufacture of the brain, which, in 
comparison with the lofty and durable monuments 
of genius, is as the gold filigree-work of Zamara be- 
side the eternal architecture of Egy^pt !” After this 
gorgeous sentence, which, with a few more of the 
same kind, Fadladeen kept by him for rare and 
important occasions, he proceeded to the anatomy 
of the short poem just recited. The lax and easy 
kind of metre in which it was written ought to be 
denounced, he said, as one of the leading causes of 
the alarming growth of poetry in our times. If 
some check were not given to this lawless facility, 
we should soon be overrun by a race of bards as 
numerous and as shallow as the hundred and twen- 
ty thousand Streams of Basra.* They who suc- 
ceeded in this style deser\^ed chastisement for their 
very success ; — as warriors have been punished, 
even after gaining a victory^ because they had taken 
the liberty of gaining it in an irregular or unestab- 
lished manner. What, then, was to be said to 
those who failed ? to those who presumed, as in the 
present lamentable instance, to imitate the license 


* “ It is said that the rivers or streams of Basra were reckoned 
in the time of Pelal ben Abi Bordeh, and amounted to the num- 
ber of one hundred and twenty thousand streams .” — Ebn Hau- 


202 


Lalla Rookh. 


and ease of the bolder sons of song, without any of 
that grace or vigor which gave a dignity even to 
negligence ; — who, like them, flung the jereed* 
carelessly, but not, like them, to the mark ; — “ and 
who,” said he, raising his voice to excite a proper 
degree of wakefulness in his hearers, “ contrive to 
appear heavy and constrained in the midst of all 
the latitude they allow themselves, like one of those 
young pagans that dance before the Princess, who 
is ingenious enough to move as if her limbs were 
fettered, in a pair of the lightest and loosest draw- 
ers of Masulipatam !” 

It was but little suitable, he continued, to the 
grave march of criticism to follow this fantastical 
Peri, of whom they had just heard, through all her 
flights and adventures between earth and Heaven ; 
but he could not help adverting to the puerile con- 
ceitedness of the Three Gifts which she is supposed 
to carry to the skies, — a drop of blood, forsooth, a 
sigh, and a tear ! How the first of these articles was 
delivered into the Angel’s “ radiant hand” he pro- 
fessed himself at a loss to discover ; and as to the 
safe carriage of the sigh and the tear, such Peris and 
such poets were beings by far too incomprehensible 
for him even to guess how they managed such mat- 
ters. “ But, in short,” said he, “ it is a waste of 
time and patience to dwell longer upon a thing so 
incurably frivolous, — puny even among its own 


* The name of the javelin with which the Easterns exercise. See 
Castellan^ Moeurs des Othomans, tom. iii. p. i6i. 


Lalla Rookh. 


203 


puny race, and such as only the Banyan Hospital* 
for Sick Insects should undertake.” 

In vain did Lalla Rookh try to soften this inex- 
orable critic ; in vain did she resort to her most elo- 
quent common-places, — reminding him that poets 
were a timid and sensitive race, whose sweetness was 
not to be drawn forth, like that of the fragrant grass 
near the Ganges, by crushing and trampling upon 
them ;t — that severity often extinguished every 
chance of the perfection which it demanded ; and 
that, after all, perfection was like the Mountain of 
the Talisman, — no one had ever yet reached its 
summit,]; Neither these gentle axioms, nor the still 
gentler looks with which they were inculcated, could 
lower for one instant the elevation of Fadladeen’s 

* “ This account excited a desire of visiting the Banyan Hospi- 
tal, as I had heard much of their benevolence to all kinds of animals 
that were either sick, lame, or infirm, through age or accident. On 
my arrival, there were presented to my view many horses, cows, 
and oxen, in one apartment ; in anothe'r, dogs, sheep, goats, and 
monkeys, with clean straw for them to repose on. Above stairs 
were depositories for seeds of many sorts, and flat, broad dishes for 
water, for the use of birds and insects,” — Parson's Travels. 

It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the most timid 
approach them, and that birds will fly nearer to them than to other 
people. — See Grandpre. 

t “ A very fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, near 
Heridwar, which in some places covers whole acres, and diffuses, 
when crushed, a strong odor .” — Sir IP. Jones on the Spikenard of 
the Ancients. 

% ” Near this is a curious hill, called Koh Talism, the Mountain 
of the Talisman, because, according to the traditions of the 
country, no person ever succeeded in gaining its summit.”— 
Kinneir, 


204 


Lalla Rookh. ■ 


eyebrows, or charm him into any thing like en- 
couragement, or even toleration, of her poet. Toler- 
ation, indeed, was not among the weaknesses of 
Fadladeen ; — he carried the same spirit into mat- 
ters of poetr}' and of religion, and, though little 
versed in the beauties or sublimities of either, was a 
perfect master of the art of persecution in both. 
His zeal was the same, too, in either pursuit ; 
whether the game before him was pagans or poetas- 
ters, — worshippers of cows, or writers of epics. 

They had now arrived at the splendid city of 
Lahore, whose mausoleums and shrines, magnificent 
and numberless, where Death appeared to share 
equal honors with Heaven, would have powerfully 
affected the heart and irnagination of Lalla 
Rookh, if feelings more of this earth had not taken 
entire possession of her already. She was here met 
by messengers, despatched from Cashmere, who in- 
formed her that the King had arrived in the Valley, 
and was himself superintending the sumptuous prep- 
arations that were then making in the Saloons of the 
Shalimar for her reception. The chill she felt on re- 
ceiving this intelligence, — which to a bride whose 
heart was free and light would have brought only 
images of affection and pleasure, — convinced her 
that her peace was gone forever, and that she was 
in love, irretrievably in love, with young Feramorz. 
The veil had fallen off in which this passion at first 
disguises itself, and to know that she loved was now 
as painful as to love withoid knowing it had been 


Lalla RookJi. 


205 


delicious. F ERAMORZ, too, — what misery would be 
his, if the sweet hours of intercourse so imprudently 
allowed them should have stolen into his heart the 
same fatal fascination as into hers ; — if, notwith- 
standing her rank, and the modest homage he 
always paid to it, even he should have yielded to the 
influence of those long and happy interviews, where 
music, poetry, the delightful scenes of nature, — all 
had tended to bring their hearts close together, and 
to waken by every means that too ready passion, 
which often, like the young of the desert-bird, is 
warmed into life by the eyes alone !* She saw but 
one way to preserv^e herself from being culpable as 
well as unhappy, and this, however painful, she was 
resolved to adopt. Feramorz must no more be 
admitted to her presence. To have strayed so far 
into the dangerous labyrinth was wrong, but to 
linger in it, while the clew was yet in her hand, 
would be criminal. Though the heart she had to 
offer to the King of Bucharia might be cold afid 
broken, it should at least be pure ; and she must 
only endeavor to forget the short dream of happi- 
ness she had enjoyed, — like that Arabian shepherd, 
who, in wandering into the wilderness, caught a 
glimpse of the Gardens of Irim, and then lost them 
again forever !t 

The arrival of the young Bride at Lahore was 

* “ The Arabians believe that the ostriches hatch their young by 
only looking at them.” — P. Vanslebc^ Relat. d’Egypte. 

t See Sale's Koran, note, vol. ii. p. 484. 


2o6 


Lalla Rookh, 


celebrated in the most enthusiastic manner. The 
Rajas and Omras in her train, who had kept at a 
certain distance during the journey, and never en- 
camped nearer to the Princess than was strictly 
necessary for her safeguard, here rode in splendid 
cavalcade through the city, and distributed the most 
costly presents to the crowd. Engines were erected 
in all the squares, which cast forth showers of con- 
fectionery among the people ; while the artisans, in 
chariots,* adorned with tinsel and flying streamers, 
exhibited the badges of their respective trades 
through the streets. Such brilliant displays of life 
and pageantr}' among the palaces, and domes, and 
gilded minarets of Lahore, made the city altogether 
like a place of enchantment ; — particularly on the 
day when Lalla Rookh set out again upon her 
journey, when she was accompanied to the gate by 
all the fairest and richest of the nobility, and rode 
along between ranks of beautiful boys and girls, who 
kept waving over their heads plates of gold and 
silver flowers, t and then threw them around to be 
gathered by the populace. 


For many days after their departure from Lahore 
a considerable degree of gloom hung over the whole 

* Oriental Tales. 

t Ferishta. “ Or rather,” says Scott, upon the passage of 
Ferlshta from which this is taken, “ small coins, stamped with the 
figure of a flower. They are still used in India to distribute in 
charity, and, on occasion, thrown by the purse-bearers of the great 
among the populace.” 


Lalla Rookh. 


207 


party. Lalla Rookh, who had intended to make 
illness her excuse for not admitting the young min- 
strel, as usual, to the pavilion, soon found that to 
feign indisposition was unnecessary ; — Fadladeen 
felt the loss of the good road they had hitherto 
travelled, and was very near cursing Jehan-Guire 
(of blessed memory !) for not having continued his 
delectable alley of trees,* at least as far as the 
mountains of Cashmere ; — while the Ladies, who 
had nothing now to do all day but to be fanned by 
peacocks’ feathers and listen to Fadladeen, 
seemed heartily weary of the life they led, and, in 
spite of all the Great Chamberlain’s criticisms, were 
so tasteless as to wish for the poet again. One 
evening, as they were proceeding to their place of 
rest for the night, the Princess, who, for ‘the freer 
enjoyment of the air, had mounted her favorite Ara- 
bian palfrey, in passing by a small grove, heard the 
notes of a lute from within its leaves, and a voice, 
which she but too well knew, singing the following 
words : — 

Tell me not of joys above. 

If that world can give no bliss. 

Truer, happier than the Love 
Which enslaves our souls in this. 


* The fine road made by the Emperor Jehan-Guire from Agra to 
Lahore, planted with trees on each side. This road is 250 leagues 
in length. It has “little pyramids or turrets,” says Bernier, 
“ erected every half league, to mark the ways, and frequent wells to 
afford drink to passengers, and to water the young trees.” 


2o8 


Lalla Rookh. 


Tell me not of Houris’ eyes ; — 

Far from me their dangerous glow, 

If those looks that light the skies 
Wound like some that burn below. 

Who, that feels what Love is here. 

All its falsehood — all its pain — 

Would, for ev’n Elysium’s sphere. 

Risk the fatal dream again ? 

Who, that midst a desert’s heat 
Sees the waters fade away. 

Would not rather die than meet 
Streams again as false as they ? 

The tone of melancholy defiance in which these 
words were uttered, went to Lalla Rookh ’s heart ; 
— and, as she reluctantly rode on, she could not help 
feeling it to be a sad but still sweet certainty, that 
F ERAMORZ was to the full as enamored and misera- 
ble as herself. 

The place where they encamped that evening was 
the first delightful spot they had come to since they 
left Lahore. On one side of them was a grove full 
of small Hindoo temples, and planted with the most 
graceful trees of the East ; where the tamarind, the 
cassia, and the silken plantains of Ceylon were 
mingled in rich contrast with the high fan-like fo- 
liage of the Palmyra, — that favorite tree of the luxu- 
rious bird that lights up the chambers of its nest with 


Lalla Rookh. 


209 


fire-flies.* In the middle of the lawn where the 
pavilion stood there was a tank surrounded by small 
mango-trees, on the clear cold waters of which 
floated multitudes of the beautiful red lotus ;t while 
at a -distance stood the ruins of a strange and awful- 
looking tower, which seemed old enough to have 
been the temple of some religion no longer known, 
and which spoke the voice of desolation in the midst 
of all that bloom and loveliness. This singular ruin 
excited the wonder and conjectures of all. Lalla 
Rookh guessed in vain, and the all-pretending 
Fadladeen, who had never till this journey been 
beyond the precincts of Delhi, was proceeding 
most learnedly to show that he knew nothing what- 
ever about the matter, when one of the Ladies 
suggested that perhaps Feramorz could satisfy 
their curiosity. They were now approaching his 
native mountains, and this tower might perhaps be 
a relic of some of those dark superstitions, which 
had prevailed in that country before the light of 
Islam dawned upon it. The Chamberlain, who 
usually preferred his own ignorance to the best 
knowledge that any one else could give him, was by 
no means pleased with this officious reference ; and 
the Princess, too, was about to interpose a faint word 
of objection ; but before either of them could speak, 

* The Baya, or Indian Gross-beak . — Sir IV. Jones. 

t “ Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the water of which 
float multitudes of the beautiful red lotus : the flower is larger 
than that of the white water-lilj^ and is the most lovely of the 
nymphseas I have seen.” — Mrs. Gra^a/n’s Journal of a Residence 
in India. 


2 10 


Lalla Rookh. 


a slave was despatched for Feramorz, who, in 
a very few minutes, made his appearance before 
them — looking so pale and unhappy in Lalla 
Rookh ’ s eyes, that she repented already of her 
cruelty in having so long excluded him. 

That venerable tower, he told them, was the re- 
mains of an ancient Fire Temple, built by those 
Ghebers or Persians of the old religion, who, many 
hundred years since, had fled hither from their Arab 
conquerors,* preferring liberty and their altars in a 
foreign land to the alternative of apostasy or perse- 
cution in their own. It was impossible, he added, 
not to feel interested in the many glorious but un- 
successful struggles, which had been made by these 
original natives of Persia to cast off the yoke of their 
bigoted conquerors. Like their own Fire in the 
Burning Field at Bakou,t when suppressed in one 
place, they had but broken out with fresh flame in 
another ; and as a native of Cashmere, of that fair 
and Holy Valley, which had in the same manner 
become the prey of strangers, J and seen her ancient 
shrines and native princes swept away before the 

* “ On les voit persecutes par les Khalifes se retirer dans les 
montagnes du Kerman : plusieurs choisirent pour retraite la Tar- 
tarie et la Chine ; d’autres s’arreterent sur les borJs du Gange, k 
I’est de Delhi.” — Jlf. Anguetil^ Memoires de I’Academie, tom. 
xxxi. p. 346. 

t The ‘‘ Ager ardens” described by Kemp/er^ Amoenitat. Exot. 

J ” Cashmere (say its historians) had its own princes 4000 years 
before its conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar would have found 
some difficulty to reduce this paradise of the Indies, situated as it 
is within such a fortress of mountains, but its monarch, Yusef- 
Khan, was hasely betrayed by his Omrahs.” — Pennant, 


Lalla Rookh. 


2II 


march cf her intolerant invaders, he felt a sympathy, 
he owned, with the sufferings of the persecuted 
Ghebers, which every monument like this before 
them but tended more powerfully to awalcen. 

It was the first time that Feramorz had ever 
ventured upon so much _^rose before Fadladeen, 
and it may easily be conceived what effect such prose 
as this must have produced upon that most ortho- 
dox and most pagan-hating personage. He sat for 
some minutes aghast, ejaculating only at intervals, 
“ Bigoted conquerors ! — sympathy with Fire-worship- 
pers !”* — while Feramorz, happy to take advantage 
of this almost speechless horror of the Chamberlain, 
proceeded to say that he knew a melancholy story, 
connected with the events of one of those struggles 
of the brave Fire-worshippers against their Arab 
masters, which, if the evening was not too far ad- 
vanced, he should have much pleasure in being 
allowed to relate to the Princess. It was impossible 
for Lalla Rookh to refuse ; — he had never before 
looked half so animated ; and when he spoke of the 
Holy Valley, his eyes had sparkled, she thought, like 
the talismanic characters on the scimitar of Solomon. 
Her consent was therefore most readily granted ; 
and while Fadladeen sat in unspeakable dismay, 
expecting treason and abomination in every line, the 
poet thus began his story of the Fire-worshippers : — 

* Voltaire tells us that, in his Tragedy “ Lcs Guebres,” he was 
generally supposed to have alluded to the Jansenists. I should 
not be surprised if this story cf the Fire-worshippers were found 
capable of a similar doublences of application. 





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THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 


’T IS moonlight over Oman’s Sea ;* 

Her banks of pearl and palmy isles 
Bask in the night-beam beauteously. 

And her blue waters sleep in smiles. ‘ 

'Tis moonlight in Harmozia’sI walls. 

And through her Emir’s porphyr}^ halls, 
Where, some hours since, was heard the swell 
Of trumpet and the clash of zel,| 

Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell ; — 

The peaceful sun, whom better suits 
The music of the bulbul’s nest. 

Or the light touch of lovers’ lutes. 

To sing him to his golden rest. 

All hushed — there’s not a breeze in motion ; 
The shore is silent as the ocean. 

If zephyrs come, so light they come. 

Nor leaf is stirred nor wave is driven ; — 


♦ The Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separates the 
shores of Persia and Arabia. 

t The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of the 
Gulf. 

X A Moorish instrument of music. 


2 i6 


Lalla Rookh, 



’TiS MOONLIGHT OVER Oman’s Sea.” 


The wind-tower on the Emir’s dome* 
Can hardly win a breath from Heaven. 


Ev’n he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps 
Calm, while a nation round him weeps ; 

While curses load the air he breathes. 

And falchions from unnumbered sheaths 
Are starting to avenge the shame 
His race hath brought on Iran’s! name. 

Hard, heartless Chief, unmoved alike 

’Mid eyes that weep, and swords that strike ; — 

One of that saintly, murderous brood, 

To carnage and the Koran given. 

Who think through unbelievers’ blood 
Lies their directest path to Heaven ; — 

One, who will pause and kneel unshod 
In the warm blood his hand hath poured. 


* “ At Gombaroon and other places In Persia, they have towers 
for the purpose of catching the wind, and cooling the houses.” — 
Le Bruyn. 

+ ” Iran is the true general name for the empire of Persia.” — 
Asiat. Res. Disc, 5. 



The Fire - Worshippers. 


217 


To mutter o’er some text of God 
Engraven on his reeking sword ;* — 

Nay, who can coolly note the line. 

The letter of those words divine. 

To which his blade, with searching art. 

Had sunk into its victim’s heart ! 

Just Alla ! what must be thy look. 

When such a wretch before thee stands 
Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book, — 

Turning the leaves with blood-stained hands. 
And wresting from its page sublime 
His creed of lust, and hate, and crime ; — 

Ev’n as those bees of Trebizond, 

Which, from the sunniest flowers that glad 
With their pure smile the gardens round. 

Draw venom forth that drives men mad.f 

Never did fierce Arabia send 
A satrap forth more direly great ; 

Never was Iran doomed to bend 
Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. 

Her throne had fallen — her pride was crushed — 
Her sons were willing slaves, nor blushed, 

In their own land, — no more their own, — 

To crouch beneath a stranger’s throne. 


* “ On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the Koran 
is usually inscribed.” — Russel. 

t There is a kind of Rhododendros about Trebizond, whose flow- 
ers the bee feeds upon, and the honey thence drives people mad.” 
— Tourne/ort. 


2i8 


Lalla Rookh. 



Her towers, where Mith- 
RA once had burned, 
To Moslem shrines — O 
shame ! — were turned. 
Where slaves, converted by 
the sword. 

Their mean, apostate wor- 
ship poured. 

And cursed the faith their 
sires adored. 

Yet has she hearts, ’mid 
all this ill. 

O’er all this wreck high 
buoyant still 

With hope and vengeance ; 
— hearts that yet — 
Like gems, in darkness, 
issuing rays 

They’ve treasured from the 
sun that’s set — 
Beam all the light of 
long-lost days ! 

All truth and tenderness and . , 11/, 

crace.” swords she hath, nor 

weak nor slow 

To second all such hearts can dare ; 

As he shall know, well, dearly know. 

Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there. 

Tranquil as if his spirit lay 
Becalmed in Heaven’s approving ray. 

Sleep on — for purer eyes than thine 
Those waves are hushed, those planets shine ; 



The Fire - Worshippers, 


219 


Sleep on, and be thy rest unmoved 

By the white moonbeam’s dazzling power ; — 
None but the loving and the loved 
Should be awake at this sweet hour. 

And see — where, high above those rocks 
That o’er the deep their shadows fling. 

Yon turret stands ; — where ebon locks. 

As glossy as a heron’s wing 
Upon the turban of a king,* 

Hang from the lattice, long and wild, — 

’Tis she, that Emir’s blooming child. 

All truth and tenderness and grace. 

Though born of such ungentle race ; — 

An image of Youth’s radiant Fountain 
Springing in a desolate mountain !t 

O, what a pure and sacred thing 
Is Beauty, curtained from the sight 
Of the gross world, illumining 
One only mansion with her light ! 

Unseen by man’s disturbing eye, — 

The flower that blooms beneath the sea. 

Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie 
Hid in more chaste obscurity. 

So, Hinda, have thy face and mind. 

Like holy mysteries, lain enshrined. 

* “ Their kings wear plumes of black herons’ feathers upon the 
right side as a badge of sovereignty.” — Hatiway. 

t“ The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is situ- 
ated in some dark region of the East.” — Richardson . 


220 


Lalla Rookh. 


And, O, what transport for a lover 

To lift the veil that shades them o’er ! — 
Like those who, all at once, discover 
In the lone deep some fairy shore, 

Where mortal never trod before. 

And sleep and wake in scented airs 
No lip had ever breathed but theirs. 

Beautiful are the maids that glide. 

On summer-eves, through Yemen’s* dales, 
And bright the glancing looks they hide 
Behind their litters’ roseate veils ; — 

And brides, as delicate and fair 
As the white jasmine flowers they wear. 

Hath Yemen in her blissful clime. 

Who, lulled in cool kiosk or bowerf 
Before their mirrors count the time,J 
And grow still lovelier every hour. 


* Arabia Felix. 

t “ In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a large room, 
commonly beautified with a fine fountain in the midst of it. It is 
raised nine or ten steps, and enclosed with gilded lattices, round 
which vines, jessamines, and honeysuckles, make a sort of green 
wall ; large trees are planted round this place, which is the scene 
of their greatest pleasure .” — Lady M. W. Montagu. 

X The women of the East are never without their looking- 
glasses. “ In Barbary,” says Shaw, ‘‘ they are so fond of their 
looking-glasses, which they hang upon their breasts, that they will 
not lay them aside, even when after the drudgery of the day they 
are obliged to go two or three miles with a pitcher or a goat’s skin 
to fetch water.” — Travels. 

In other parts of Asia they wear little looking-glasses on their 
thumbs. ” Hence (and from the lotus being considered the em- 


TT.'. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 221 


But never yet hath bride or maid 
In Araby’s gay Haram smiled, 

Whose boasted brightness would not fade 
Before Al Hassan’s blooming child. 



“ Before their mirrors count the time.” 


Light as the angel shapes that bless 
An infant’s dream, yet not the less 

blem of beauty") is the meaning of the following mute intercourse 
of two lovers before their parents ; — 

“ He, with salute of deference due, 
i- lotus to his forehead prest ; 

She raised her mirror to his view, 

Then turned it inward to her breast.” 

Asiatic Miscellany, vol. ii. 


222 


Lalla Rookh. 


Rich in all woman’s loveliness ; — 

With eyes so pure, that from their ray 
Dark Vice would turn abashed away. 

Blinded like serpents, when they gaze 
Upon the emerald’s virgin blaze ;* — 

Yet filled with all youth’s sweet desires. 

Mingling the meek and vestal fires 
Of other worlds with all the bliss. 

The fond, weak tenderness of this ; 

A soul, too, more than half divine. 

Where, thro’ some shades of earthly feeling. 
Religion’s softened glories shine. 

Like light through summer foliage stealing. 
Shedding a glow of such mild hue. 

So warm, and yet so shadowy too. 

As makes the very darkness there 
More beautiful than light elsewhere. 

Such is the maid who, at this hour. 

Hath risen from her restless sleep. 

And sits alone in that high bower. 

Watching the still and shining deep. 

Ah ! ’twas not thus — with tearful eyes 
And beating heart, — she used to gaze 
On the magnificent earth and skies. 

In her own land, in happier days. 

Why looks she now so anxious down 
Among those rocks, whose rugged frown 

* “ They say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the lustre 
of those stones (emeralds), he immediately becomes blind.” — 
Ahmed ben Abdalaziz^ Treatise on Jewels. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


223 


Blackens the mirror of the deep ? 

Whom waits she all this lonely night ? 

Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep. 

For man to scale that turret’s height ! — 

So deemed at least her thoughtful sire. 

When high, to catch the cool night-air. 

After the day-beam’s withering fire,* 

He built her bower of freshness there. 

And had it decked with costliest skill. 

And fondly thought it safe as fair ; — 

Think, reverend dreamer ! think so still. 

Nor wake to learn what Love can dare ; — 
Love, all-defying Love, who sees 
No charm in trophies won with ease ; — 

Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss 
Are plucked on Danger’s precipice ! 

Bolder than they, who dare not dive 
For pearls, but when the sea’s at rest. 

Love, in the tempest most alive. 

Hath ever held that pearl the best 
He finds beneath the stormiest water. 

Yes — A raby’s unrivalled daughter. 

Though high that tower, that rock-way rude. 
There’s one who, but to kiss thy cheek. 

Would climb the’ untrodden solitude 
Of Ararat’s tremendous peak,t 

* “ At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormus it is sometimes so hot, 
that the people are obliged to lie all day in the water .” — Marco 
Polo. 

t This mountain is generally supposed to be inaccessible. 
Struy says, “ I can well assure the reader that their opinion is not 


224 


Lalla Rookh. 


And think its steeps, though dark and dread, 
Heaven’s pathways, if to thee they led ! 

Ev’n now thou seest the flashing spray. 

That lights his oar’s impatient way ; — 

Ev’n now thou hear’st the sudden shock 
Of his swift bark against the rock. 

And stretchest down thy arms of snow. 

As if to lift him from below ! 

Like her to whom, at dead of night. 

The bridegroom, with his locks of light,* 

Came, in the flush of love and pride. 

And scaled the terrace of his bride ; — 

When, as she saw him rashly spring. 

And midway up in danger cling. 

She flung him down her long black hair. 
Exclaiming, breathless, “ There, love, there !” 

And scarce did manlier nerve uphold 
The hero Zal in that fond hour, 

true, who suppose this mount to be inaccessible.” He adds, that 
“ the lower part of the mountain is cloudy, misty, and dark, the 
middlemost part very cold, and like clouds of snow, but the upper 
regions perfectly calm.” — It was on this mountain that the Ark 
was supposed to have rested after the Deluge, and part of it, they 
say, exists there still, which Struy thus gravely accounts for : — 
‘‘ Whereas none can remember that the air on the top of the hill did 
ever change or was subject either to wind or rain, which is pre- 
sumed to be the reason that the Ark has endured so long without 
being rotten.” — See Carreri's Travels, where the Doctor laughs 
at this whole account of Mount Ararat. 

* I n one of the books of the Shah N ameh, when Zal (a celebrated 
hero of Persia, remarkable for his white hair) comes to the terrace 
of his mistress Rodahver at night, she lets down her long tresses 
to assist him in his ascent ; — he, however, manages it in a less ro- 
mantic way by fixing his crook in a projecting beam. — See Cham- 
pion's Ferdosi. 


The Fire - W or shippers. 


225 


Than wings the youth who, fleet and bold. 
Now climbs the rocks to Hinda’s bower. 
See — light as up their granite steeps 
The rock-goats of Arabia clamber,* 
Fearless from crag to crag he leaps. 

And now is in the maiden’s chamber. 

She loves — but knows not whom she loves. 
Nor what his race, nor whence he came ; — 
Like one who meets, in Indian groves, 

Some beauteous bird without a name. 
Brought by the last ambrosial breeze. 

From isles in the’ undiscovered seas. 

To show his plumage for a day 
To wondering eyes, and wing away ! 

Will he thus fly — her nameless lover ? 

Alla forbid ! ’twas by a moon 
As fair as this, while singing over 
Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,t 
Alone, at this same witching hour. 

She first beheld his radiant eyes 
Gleam through the lattice of the bower, 
Where nightly now they mix their sighs ; 
And thought some spirit of the air 
(For what could waft a mortal there?) 

Was pausing on his moonlight way 
To listen to her lonely lay ! 


♦ “ On the lofty hills of Arabia Petraea are rock-goats.” — 
Niebuhr. 

t ” Canun, espece de psalterion, avec des cordes de boyaux ; les 
dames en touchent dans le serrail, avec des decailles armees de 
pointes de cooc .” — Toderiniy translated by De Cournand. 


226 


Lalla Rookh, 



This fancy ne’er hath left her mind : 

And — tho’, when terror’s swoon had past 


“ Shr loves — but knows not whom she loves.” 


She saw a youth, of mortal kind. 
Before her in obeisance cast, — 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


227 


Yet often since, when he hath spoken 
Strange, awful words, — and gleams have broken 
From his dark eyes, too bright to bear, 

O ! she hath feared her soul was given 
To some unhallowed child of air. 

Some erring Spirit cast from Heaven, 

Like those angelic youths of old. 

Who burned for maids of mortal mould. 
Bewildered left the glorious skies. 

And lost their Heaven for woman’s eyes ! • 

Fond girl ! nor fiend nor angel he. 

Who wooes thy young simplicity ; 

But one of earth’s impassioned sons. 

As warm in love, as fierce in ire 
As the best heart whose current runs 
Full of the Day-God’s living fire. 


But quenched to-night that ardor seems. 

And pale his cheek, and sunk his brow ; — 
Never before, but in her dreams. 

Had she beheld him pale as now : 

And those were dreams of troubled sleep. 
From which ’twas joy to wake and weep ; 
Visions, that will not be forgot 
But sadden every waking scene. 

Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot 
All withered where they once have been. 


“How sweetly,” said the trembling maid. 
Of her own gentle voice afraid. 


228 


Lalla Rookh. 


So long had they in silence stood. 

Looking upon that tranquil flood — 

“ How sweetly does the moonbeam smile 
“ To-night upon yon leafy isle ! 

“ Oft, in my fancy’s wanderings, 

“ I’ve wished that little isle had wings, 

“ And we, within its fairy bowers, ' 

“Were wafted off to seas unknown, 

“ Where not a pulse should beat but ours, 

“ And we might live, love, die alone ! 

“ Far from the cruel and the cold, — 

“ Where the bright eyes of angels only 
“ Should come around us, to behold 
“ A paradise so pure and lonely. 

“ Would this be world enough for thee?” — 
Playful she turned, that he might see 
The passing smile her cheek put on ; 

But when she marked how mournfully 
His eyes met hers, that smile was gone ; 
And, bursting into heart-felt tears, 

“Yes, yes,” she cried, “my hourly fears, 

“ My dreams have boded all too right — 

“ We part — forever part — to-night ! 

“ I knew, I knew it could not last — 

“ ’Twas bright, ’twas heavenly, but ’tis past ! 
“ O ! ever thus, from childhood’s hour, 

“ I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay ; 

“ I never loved a tree or flower, 

“ But ’twas the first to fade away ; 

“ I never nursed a dear gazelle, 

“To glad me with its soft black eye. 


The Fire - Worshippers. 


229 


“ But when it came to know me well, 

" And love me, it was sure to die ! 

“ Now too — the joy most like divine 
“ Of all I ever dreamt or knew, 

“To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine, — 

“ O misery ! must I lose that too ? 

“ Yet go — on peril’s brink we meet ; — 

“ Those frightful rocks — that treacherous sea — 
“ No, never come again — -though sw^eet, 

“ Though Heaven, it may be death to thee. 

“ Farewell — and blessings on thy way, 

“ Where’er thou go’st, beloved stranger ! 

“ Better to sit and watch that ray, 

“ And think thee safe, though far away, 

“ Than have thee near me, and in danger !” 

“ Danger ! — O, tempt me not to boast — ” 

The youth exclaimed — “ thou little know’st 
“ What he can brave, who, born and nursed 
“ In Danger’s paths, has dared her worst ; 

“ Upon whose ear the signal-word 

“ Of strife and death is hourly breaking ; 

“ Who sleeps with head upon the sword 
“ His fevered hand must grasp in waking. 

“ Danger !” 

“ Say on — thou fear’st not then, 

“ And we may meet — oft meet again F 

“ O ! look not so — beneath the skies 
“ I now fear nothing but those eyes. 


230 


Lalla Rookh, 



“ If aught on earth could charm or force 
“ My spirit from its destined course, — 


“ Farewell !” 

“ If aught could make this soul forget 
“ The bond to which its seal is set, 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


231 



“ ’Twould be those eyes ; — they, only they, 

“ Could melt that sacred seal away ! 

“ But no — ’tis fixed — 7ny awful 
doom 

“ Is fixed — on this side of the 
tomb 

“ We meet no more ; — why, 

.why did Heaven 
“ Mingle two souls that earth 
has riven, 

“ Has rent asunder 
wide as ours ? 

“ O, Arab maid, as 
soon the Pow- 
ers 

“ Of Light and 
Darkness may 
combine, 

“ As I be linked with thee 
or thine ! 

“ Thy Father ” 

“ Holy Alla save 
“ His gray head from that 

lightning glance . u j ^ake him cool sherbets and 

“ Thou know’st him not — ■ flowers.’* 

he loves the brave ; 

“ Nor lives there under Heaven's expanse 
“ One who would prize, would worship thee 
“ And thy bold spirit, more than he. 

“ Oft when, in childhood, I have played 
“ With the bright falchion by his side. 


232 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ I’ve heard him swear his lisping maid 
“ In time should be a warrior’s bride. 

“ And still, whene’er at Haram hours, 

“ I take him cool sherbets and flowers, 

“ He tells me, when in playful mood, 

“ A hero shall my bridegroom be, 

“ Since maids are best in battle wooed, 

“ And won with shouts of victory ! 

“ Nay, turn not from me — thou alone 
“ Art formed to make both hearts thy own. 

“ Go — join his sacred ranks — thou know’st ‘ 

“ The’ unholy strife these Persians wage : — 

“ Good Heaven, that frown ! — even now thou 
glow’st 

“ With more than mortal warrior’s rage. 

“ Haste to the camp by morning’s light, 

“ And, when that sword is raised in flght, 

“ O, still remember. Love and I 
“ Beneath its shadow trembling lie ! 

“ One victory o’er those Slaves of Fire, 

“ Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire 
“ Abhors ” 

“ Hold, hold — thy words are death — ” 
The stranger cried, as wild he flung 
His mantle back, and showed beneath 
The Gheber belt that round him clung.* — 


* “ They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee or 
girdle, as not to dare to be an instant without it.” — Grose's Voy- 
age. — “ Le jeune homme nia d’abord la chose ; mais, ayant 6te 
d^pouill^ de sa robe, et la large ceinture qu’il portoit comme 
Ghebr,” &c., Herbelot., art. Agduani. “ Pour se distin- 


The Fire-Worshippers, 


233 


“ Here, maiden, look — weep — blush to see 
“ All that thy sire abhors in me ! 

“ Yes — I am of that impious race, 

“ Those Slaves of Fire who, morn and even, 

“ Hail their Creator’s dwelling-place 
“ Among the living lights of Heaven :* 

“ Yes — / am of that outcast few, 

“To Iran and to vengeance true, 

“ Who curse the hour your Arabs came 
“To desolate our shrines of flame, 

“ And swear, before God’s burning eye, 

“ To break our country’s chains, or die ! 

“ Thy bigot sire, — nay, tremble not, — 

“ He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, 

guer des Idolatres de I’Inde, les Guebres se ceignent tous d’un 
cordon de laine, ou de poil de chameau.” — Encyclopedie Fran- 
goise. 

D’Herbelot says this belt was generally of leather. 

♦ “ They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in the 
sun, and hence their worship of that luminary.” — Hanway, 
“ As to fire, the Ghebers place the spring-head of it in that globe 
of fire, the Sun, by them called Mythras, or Mihir, to which they 
pay the highest reverence, in gratitude for the manifold benefits 
flowing from its ministerial omniscience. But they are so far 
from confounding the subordination of the Servant with the 
majesty of its Creator, that they not only attribute no sort of 
sense or reasoning to the sun or fire, in any of its operations, but 
consider it as a purely passive, blind instrument, directed and 
governed by the immediate impression on it of the will of God ; 
but thej'^ do not even give that luminary, all-glorious as it is, more 
than the second rank amongst his works, reserving the first for 
that stupendous production of divine power, the mind of man.” — 
Grose. The false charges brought against the religion of these 
people by their Mussulman tyrants is but one proof among many 
of the truth of this writer’s remark, that “calumny is often 
added to oppression, if but for the sake of justifying it.” 


234 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ With me is sacred as the spot 

“ From which our fires of worship rise ! 



But kkow— ’twas he I sought that night.'’ 


“ But know — 'twas he I sought that night, 
“ When, from my watch-boat on the sea. 


The Fire - Worshippers. 


235 


“ I caught this turret’s glimmering light, 

“ And up the rude rocks desperately 
“ Rushed to my prey — ^thou know’st the rest — 

“ I climbed the gory vulture’s nest, 

“ And found a trembling dove within ; — 

“ Thine, thine the victory — thine the sin — 

“ If Love hath made one thought his own, 

“ That Vengeance claims first — last — alone ! 

“ O ! had we never, never met, 

“ Or could this heart ev’n now forget - 
“ How linked, how bless’d we might have been, 

“ Had fate not frowned so dark between ! 

“ Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, 

“ In neighboring valleys had we dwelt, 

“ Through the same fields in childhood played, 

“ At the same kindling altar knelt, — 

“ Then, then, while all those nameless ties, 

“ In which the charm of Country lies, 

“ Had round our hearts been hourly spun, 

“ Till Iran’s cause and thine were one ; 

“ While in thy lute’s awakening sigh 
“ I heard the voice of days gone by, 

“ And saw, in every smile of thine, 

“ Returning hours of glory shine ; — 

“ While the wronged Spirit of our Land 

“ Lived, looked, and spoke her wrongs through 
thee, — 

“ God ! who could then this sword withstand ? 

“ Its very flash were victory ! 

“ But now, — estranged, divorced forever, 

“ Far as the grasp of Fate can sever ; 


236 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Our only ties what Love has wove, — 

“ In faith, friends, country, sundered wide ; 

“ And then, then only, true to love, 

“ When false to all that’s dear beside ! 

“ Thy father Iran’s deadliest foe — 

“ Thyself, perhaps, ev’n now — but no — 

“ Hate never looked so lovely yet ! 

“ No — sacred to thy soul will be 
“ The land of him who could forget 
“ All but that bleeding land for thee. 

“ When other eyes shall see, unmoved, 

“ Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, 

“ Thou’lt think how well one Gheber loved, 

“ And for hzs sake thou’lt weep for all ! 

“ But look ” 

With sudden start he turned, 
And pointed to the distant wave. 

Where lights, like charnel meteors, burned 
Bluely, as o’er some seaman’s grave ; 

And fiery darts, at intervals,* 

Flew up all sparkling from the main. 

As if each star that nightly falls, ' 

Were shooting back to Heaven again. 

“ My signal lights ! — I must away — 

“ Both, both are ruined, if I stay. 

“ Farewell — sweet life ! thou cling’st in vain — 

“ Now, Vengeance, I am thine again !” 

* “ The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it was 
dark, used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the air, which 
in some measure resembled lightning or falling stars.”— 
garten. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


237 


Fiercely he broke away, nor stopped. 

Nor looked — but from the lattice dropped 
Down ’mid the pointed crags beneath. 

As if he fled from love to death. 

While pale and mute young HiNDA stood. 

Nor moved, till in the silent flood 
A momentary plunge below 
Startled her from her trance of woe ; — 
Shrieking she to the lattice flew, 

“ I come — I come — if in that tide 
“ Thou sleep’st to-night. I’ll sleep there too, 

“ In death’s cold wedlock, by thy side. 

“ O ! I would ask no happier bed 

“ Than the chill wave my love lies under : — 
“ Sweeter to rest together dead. 

Far sweeter, than to live asunder !” 

But no — their hour is not yet come — 

Again she sees his pinnace fly. 

Wafting him fleetly to his home. 

Where’er that ill-starred home may lie ; 

And calm and smooth it seemed to win 
Its moonlight way before the wind. 

As if it bore all peace within. 

Nor left one breaking heart behind ! 


238 


Lalla Rookh, 


The Princess, whose heart was sad enough 
already, could have wished that Feramorz had 
chosen a less melancholy story ; as it is only to the 
happy that tears are a luxury. Her Ladies, how- 
ever, were by no means sorry that love was once 
more the Poet’s theme ; for, whenever he spoke of 
love, they said, his voice was as sweet as if he had 
chewed the leaves of that enchanted tree, which 
grows over the tomb of the musician, Tan-Sein.* 

Their road all the morning had lain through 
a very dreary country ; — through valleys, covered 
with a low bushy jungle, where, in more than one 
place, the awful signal of the bamboo staff,t with 
the white flag at its top, reminded the traveller, 
that in that very spot, the tiger had made some 
human creature his victim. It was, therefore, with 
much pleasure that they arrived at sunset in a safe and 

* “ Within the enclosure which surrounds this monument 
(at Gualior) is a small tomb to the 'memory of Tan-Sein, a musi- 
cian of incomparable skill, who flourished at the court of Akbar. 
The tomb is overshadowed by a tree, concerning which a super- 
stitious notion prevails, that the chewing of its leaves will give an 
extraordinary melody to the voice.” — :Narrative of a Journey 
from Agra to Ouzein, by W. Hunter^ Esq. 

+ ” It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a 
bamboo staff of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a 
tiger has destroyed a man. It is common for the passengers also 
to throw each a stone or brick near the spot, so that in the course 
of a little time a pile equal to a good wagon-load is collected. 
The sight of these flags and piles of stones imparts a certain 
melancholy, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension.” — Ori- 
ental Field Sports, vol. ii. 


Lalla Rookh, 


239 


lovely glen, and encamped under one of those holy 
trees, whose smooth columns and spreading roofs 
seem to destine them for natural temples of religion. 
Beneath this spacious shade, some pious hands had 
erected a row of pillars ornamented with the most 
beautiful porcelain,* which now supplied the use of 
mirrors to the young maidens, as they adjusted 
their hair in descending from the palankeens. Here, 
while, as usual, the Princess sat listening anxiously, 
with Fadladeen in one of his loftiest moods of 
criticism by her side, the young Poet, leaning 
against a branch of the tree, thus continued his 
story : — 

♦“The Ficus Indica is called the Pagod-Tree and Tree of 
Councils ; the first, from the idols placed under its shade; the 
second, because meetings were held under its cool branches. In 
some places it is believed to be the haunt of spectres, as the an- 
cient spreading oaks of Wales have been of fairies ; in others are 
erected beneath the shade pillars of stone or posts elegantly- 
carved, and ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain to sup- 
ply the use of xaSxxox^!' —Pennant. 


240 


Lalla Rookh 



The mom hath risen clear and calm, 

And o’er the Green Sea* palely shines, 
Revealing Bahrein ’ sf groves of palm. 

And lighting KiSHMA’sf amber vines. 

Fresh smell the shores of Araby, 

While breezes from the Indian Sea 
Blow round Selama’s]: sainted cape. 

And curl the shining flood beneath, — 

* The Persian Gulf. — “ To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or 
Persian Gulf,”— IV. Jones. 

t Islands in the Gulf. 

X Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the entrance 
of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. “ The Indians, 
when they pass the promontorj', throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or 
flowers into the sea, to secure a propitious voyage.” — Morier. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


241 


Whose waves are rich with many a grape, 

And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath. 

Which pious seamen, as they passed. 

Had toward that holy headland cast— 

Oblations to the Genii there 
For gentle skies and breezes fair ! 

The nightingale now bends her flight* 

F rom the high trees, where all the night 
She sung so sweet, with none to listen ; 

And hides her from the morning star 
Where thickets of pomegranate glisten 
In the clear dawn, — bespangled o’er 
With dew, whose night-drops would not stain 
The best and brightest scimitarf 
That ever youthful Sultan wore 
On the first morning of his reign. 

And see — the Sun hirhself ! — on wings 
Of glory up the East he springs. 

Angel of Light ! who, from the time 
Those Heavens began their march sublime, 

Hath first of all the starry choir 
Trod in his Maker’s steps of fire ! 

Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere. 
When Iran, like a sun-flower, turned 
To meet that eye where’er it burned — 

When, from the banks of Bendemeer 


* “ The nightingale sings from the pomegranate-groves in the 
daytime, and from the loftiest trees at night.” — Russel's Aleppo. 

t In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, “ The 
dew is of such a pure nature, that if the brightest scimitar should 
be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the least rust.” 


242 


Lalla Rookh. 


To the nut-groves of Sam ARC and, 

Thy temples flamed o’er all the land ? 

Where are they ? ask the shades of them 
Who, on Cadessia’s* bloody plains. 

Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem 
From Iran’s broken diadem. 

And bind her ancient faith in chains : — 

Ask the poor exile, cast alone 
On foreign shores, unloved, unknown, 

Beyond the Caspian’s Iron Gates,t 
Or on the snowy Mossian mountains. 

Far from his beauteous land of dates. 

Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains : 

Yet happier so than if he trod 
His own beloved, but blighted, sod, 

Beneath a despot stranger’s nod ! — 

O, he would rather houseless roam 

Where Freedom and his God may lead. 

Than be the sleekest slave at home 

That crouches to the conqueror’s creed ! 

Is Iran’s pride then gone forever. 

Quenched with the flame in Mithra’s caves ? — 
No — she has sons, that never — never — 

Will stoop to be the Moslem’s slaves. 

While Heaven has light or earth has graves ; — 
Spirits of fire, that brood not long, 

But flash resentment back for wrong ; 

* The place where the Persians were finally defeated by the 
Arabs, and their ancient monarchy destroyed. 

t Derbend. — “ Les Turcs appellent cette ville Demir Capi, Porte 
de Fer ; ce sont les Caspiae Portae des anciens.” — D' Herbelot. 


The Fire - Worshippers. 


243 


And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds 
Of vengeance ripen into deeds. 

Till, in some treacherous hour of calm. 

They burst, like Zeilan’s giant palm,* 

Whose buds fly open with a sound . 

That shakes the pygmy forests round ! 

Yes, Emir ! he, who scaled that tower. 

And, had he reached thy slumbering breast, 
Had taught thee, in a Gheber’s power 
How safe ev’n tyrant heads may rest — 

Is one of many, brave as he. 

Who loathe thy haughty race and thee ; 

Who, though they know the strife is vain. 

Who, though they know the riven chain 
Snaps but to enter in the heart 
Of him who rends its links apart. 

Yet dare the issue, — bless’d to be 
Ev’n for one bleeding moment free. 

And die in pangs of liberty ! 

Thou know’st them well — ’tis some moons since 
Thy turbaned troops and blood-red flags. 

Thou satrap of a bigot Prince, 

Have swarmed among these Green Sea crags ; 
Yet here, ev’n here, a sacred band. 

Ay, in the portal of that land 

• The Talpot or Talipot-tree. “ This beautiful palm-tree, which 
grows in the heart of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest 
trees, and becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth 
from its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelops the 
flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like 
the report of a cannon.” — Thunberg. 


244 


Lalla Rookh. 


Thou, Arab, dar’st to call thy own. 

Their spears across thy path have thrown ; 
Here — ere the winds half winged thee o’er — 
Rebellion braved thee from the shore. 

Rebellion ! foul, dishonoring word. 

Whose wrongful blight so oft has stained 
The holiest cause that tongue or sword 
Of mortal ever lost or gained. 

How many a spirit, born to bless, 

Hath sunk beneath that withering name. 
Whom but a day’s, an hour’s success 
Had wafted to eternal fame ! 

As exhalations, when they burst 
From the warm earth, if chilled at first. 

If checked in soaring from the plain. 

Darken to fogs and sink again ; — 

But, if they once triumphant spread 
Their wings above the mountain-head. 
Become enthroned in upper air. 

And turn to sun-bright glories there ! 


And who is he, that wields the might 
Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink. 
Before whose sabre’s dazzling light,* 
The eyes of Yemen’s warriors wink.^ 
Who comes, embowered in the spears 
Of Kerman’s hardy mountaineers ? — 


* “ When the bright cimitars make the eyes of our heroes 
wink.” — The Moallakat, Poem of Amru. 






4 



¥ 






246 


Lalla Rookh. 


Those mountaineers that, truest, last. 

Cling to their country’s ancient rites. 

As if that God, whose eyelids cast 
Their closing gleam on Iran’s heights. 

Among her snowy mountains threw 
The last light of his worship too ! 

’Tis Hafed — name of fear, whose sound 
Chills like the muttering of a charm ! — 

Shout but that awful name around. 

And palsy shakes the manliest arm. 

'Tis Hafed, most accursed and dire 
. (So ranked by Moslem hate and ire) 

Of all the rebel Sons of Fire ; 

Of whose malign, tremendous power 
The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour. 

Such tales of fearful wonder tell. 

That each affrighted sentinel 
Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes. 

Lest Hafed in the midst should rise ! - 
A man, they say, of monstrous birth, 

A mingled race of flame and earth. 

Sprung from those old, enchanted kings,* 

Who in their fairy helms, of yore, 

A feather from the mystic wings 
Of the Simoorgh resistless wore ; 

♦ Tahmuras, and other ancient Kings of Persia; whose adven- 
tures in Fairy-land among the Peris and Dives may be found in 
Richardson’s curious Dissertation. The griffin Simoorgh, they 
say, took some feathers from her breast for Tahmuras, with which 
he adorned his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his de- 
scendants. 


The Fire - W or shippers. 


247 


And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, 

Who groaned to see their shrines expire. 
With charms that, all in vain withstood. 
Would drown the Koran's light in blood ! 

Such were the tales, that won belief. 

And such the coloring Fancy gave 
To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief, — 
One who, no more than mortal brave, • 
Fought for the land his soul adored. 

For happy homes and altars free, — 

His only talisman, the sword. 

His only spell-word. Liberty ! 

One of that ancient hero line. 

Along whose glorious current shine 
Names that have sanctified their blood : 

As Lebanon’s small mountain-flood 
Is rendered holy by the ranks 
Of sainted cedars on its banks.* 

'Twas not for him to crouch the knee 
Tamely to Moslem tyranny; 

'Twas not for him, whose soul was cast 
In the bright mould of ages past. 


♦ This rivulet, says Dandini, Is called the Holy River from the 
“cedar saints” among which it rises. 

In the Lettres Edifiantes, there Ls a different cause assigned for 
its name of Holy. “ In these are deep caverns, which formerly 
served as so many cells for a great number of recluses, who had 
chosen these retreats as the only witnesses upon earth of the se- 
verity of their penance. The tears of these pious penitents gave 
the river of which we have just treated the name of the Holy 
River.” — See Chateaubriand"' s Beauties of Christianity. 


248 


Lalla Rookh. 


Whose melancholy spirit, fed 
With all the glories of the dead, 

Though framed for Iran’s happiest years. 
Was born among her chains and tears ! — 
’Twas not for him to swell the crowd 
Of slavish heads, that shrinking bowed 
Before the Moslem, as he passed. 

Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast — 

No — far he fled — indignant fled 

The pageant of his country’s shame ; 
While every tear her children shed 
Fell on his soul like drops of flame ; 
And, as a lover hails the dawn 
Of a first smile, so welcomed he 
The sparkle of the first sword drawn 
F or vengeance and for liberty ! 

But vain was valor — vain the flower 
Of Kerman, in that deathful hour. 
Against Al Hassan’s whelming power. 
In vain they met him, helm to helm. 

Upon the threshold of that realm 
He came in bigot pomp to sway. 

And with their corpses blocked his way — 
In vain — for every lance they raised. 
Thousands around the conqueror blazed ; 
For every arm that lined their shore. 
Myriads of slaves were wafted o’er, — 

A bloody, bold, and countless crowd. 
Before whose swarm as fast they bowed 
As dates beneath the locust cloud. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


249 


N"' • '* '■; 


There stood — but one 
short league away 
From old Harmozia’s 
sultry bay — 

A rocky mountain, o’er the 
Sea 

Of Oman beetling awful- 
ly ;* 

A last and solitary link 

Of those stupendous 
chains that reach 
From the broad Caspian’s 
reedy brink 

Down winding to the 
Green Sea beach. 

Around its base the' bare 
rocks stood. 

Like naked giants, in the 
flood. 

As if to guard the Gulf 
across ; 

* This mountain is own crea- 
tion, as the “ stupendous chain,” 
of which I suppose it a link, does 
not extend quite so far as the “ ^ mountain,^ beetling aw- 

shores of the Persian Gulf. “ This folly. 

long and loft}' range of moun- 
tains formerl}r divided Media from Assyria, and now forms the 
boundary of the Persian and Turkish empires. It runs parallel 
with the River Tigris and Persian Gulf, and almost disappearing 
in the vicinity of Gomberoon, (Harmozia,) seems once more to rise 
in the southern districts of Kerman, and following an easterly 
course through the centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, is en- 
tirely lost in the deserts of Sinde.” — Kinnier's Persian Empire. 



250 


Lalla Rookh. 


While, on its peak, that braved the sky, 

A ruined Temple towered, so high 
That oft the sleeping albatross* 

Struck the wild ruins with her wing, 

And from her cloud-rocked slumbering 
Started — to find man’s dwelling there 
In her own silent fields of air ! 

Beneath, terrific caverns gave 

Dark welcome to each stormy wave 

That dashed, like midnight revellers, in ; — 

And such the strange, mysterious din 
At times throughout those caverns rolled, — 

And such the fearful wonders told 
Of restless sprites imprisoned there. 

That bold were Moslem, who would dare. 

At twilight hour, to steer his skiff 
Beneath the Gheber’s lonely cliff.t 
On the land side, those towers sublime. 

That seemed above the grasp of Time, 

Were severed from the haunts of men 
By a wide, deep, and wizard glen. 

So fathomless, so full of gloom. 

No eye could pierce the void between ; 

* These birds sleep in the air. They are most common about 
the Cape of Good Hope. 

t “ There is an extraordinary hill in this neighborhood, called 
Kohe Gubr, or the Guebre’s mountain. It rises in the form of a 
lofty cupola, and on the summit of it, they say, are the remains 
of an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple. It is superstitiously held to 
be the residence of Deeves or Sprites, and many marvellous stories 
are recounted of the injury and witchcraft suffered bj' those who 
essayed in former days to ascend or explore it.” — Pottinger's Be- 
loochistan. 


The Fire- Worshippers. 


251 


It seemed a place where Gholes might come 
With their foul banquets from the tomb. 

And in its caverns feed unseen. 

Like distant thunder, from below. 

The sound of many torrents came. 

Too deep for eye or ear to know 
If ’twere the sea’s imprisoned flow. 

Or floods of ever-restless flame. 

For, each ravine, each rocky spire 
Of that vast mountain stood on fire ;* 

And, though forever past the days 
When God was worshipped in the blaze 
That from its lofty altar shone, — 

Though fled the priests, the votaries gone. 

Still did the mighty flame burn on,t 
Thro’ chance and change, thro’ good and ill. 

Like its own God’s eternal will. 

Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable ! 

Thither the vanquished Hafed led 
His little army’s last remains ; — 

“ Welcome, terrific glen !” he said ; 

“ Thy gloom, that Eblis’ self might dread, 

“ Is Heaven to him who flies from chains !” 

* The Ghebers generally build their temples over subterraneous 
fires. 

t “ At the city of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished by the 
appellation of the Darub Abadut, or Seat of Religion, the Guebres 
are permitted to have an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple (which, they 
assert, has had the sacred fire in it since the days of Zoroaster) 
in their own compartment of the city ; but for this indulgence 
they are indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance of the Persian 
government, which taxes them at twenty-five rupees each man.” 
— Pottinger's Beloochistan. 


252 


Lalla Rookh. 


O’er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known 
To him and to his Chiefs alone. 

They crossed the chasm and gained the towers, — 
“ This home,” he cried, “ at least is ours ; — 

“ Here we may bleed, unmocked by hymns 
“ Of Moslem triumph o’er our head ; 

“ Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs 
“To quiver to the Moslem’s tread. 

“ Stretched on this rock, while vultures’ beaks 
“ Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, 

“ Here — happy that no tyrant’s eye 
“ Gloats on our torments — we may die !” — 

’Twas night when to those towers they came. 

And gloomily the fitful flame. 

That from the ruined altar broke. 

Glared on his features, as he spoke : — 

“ ’Tis o’er — what men could do, we’ve done — 

“ If Iran will look tamely on, 

“ And see her priests, her warriors driven 
“ Before a sensual bigot’s nod, 

“ A wretch who shrines his lusts in Heaven, 

“ And makes a pander of his God ; 

“ If her proud sons, her high-born souls, 

“ Men, in whose veins — O last disgrace ! — 

“ The blood of Zal and Rustam* rolls, — 

“If they will court this upstart race, 

“ And turn from Mithra’s ancient ray, 

“To kneel at shrines of yesterday; 


* Ancient heroes of Persia. 


The Fire - Worshippers. 


253 


“ If they will crouch to Iran’s foes, 

“ Why, let them — till the land’s despair 
“ Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows 
“ Too vile for ev’n the vile to bear ! 

“ Till shame at last, long hidden, burns 
“ Their inmost core, and conscience turns 
“ Each coward tear the slave lets fall 
“ Back on his heart in drops of gall. 

“ But here, at least, are arms unchained, 

“ And souls that thraldom never stained ; — 

“ This spot, at least, no foot of slave 
“ Or satrap ever yet profaned ; 

“ And though but few — though fast the wave 
“ Of life is ebbing from our veins, 

“ Enough for vengeance still remains. 

“ As panthers, after set of sun, 

“ Rush from the roots of Lebanon 
“ Across the dark-sea robber’s way,* 

“ We’ll bound upon our startled prey ; 

“ And when some hearts that proudest swell 
“ Have felt our falchion’s last farewell ; 

“ When Hope’s expiring throb is o’er, 

“ And ev’n Despair can prompt no more, 

“ This spot shall be the sacred grave 
“ Of the last few who, vainly brave, 

“ Die for the land they cannot save !” 

His Chiefs stood round — each shining blade 
Upon the broken altar laid — 

* See Russel’s account of the panther attacking travellers in the 
night on the sea-shore about the roots of Lebanon. 


254 


Lalla Rookh. 


And though so wild and desolate 
Those courts, where once the Mighty sate ; 

Nor longer on those mouldering towers 
Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers, 

With which of old the Magi fed 
The wandering Spirits of their Dead ;* 

Though neither priest nor rites were there. 

Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate ;t 
Nor hymn, nor censer’s fragrant air. 

Nor symbol of their worshipped planet 
Yet the same God that heard their sires 
Heard them, while on that altar’s fires 
They swore§ the latest, holiest deed 
Of the few hearts, still left to Meed, 

Should be, in Iran’s injured name. 

To die upon that Mount of Flame — 

The last of all her patriot line. 

Before her last untrampled Shrine ! 

* “ Among other ceremonies, the Magi used to place upon the 
tops of high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was 
supposed the Peris and the spirits of their departe I heroes regaled 
themselves.” — Richardson, 

t In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as described 
by Lord, “ the Daroo,” he says, “ giveth them water to drink, and 
a pomegranate leaf to chew in the mouth, to cleanse them from 
inward uncleanness.” 

$ “ Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers at Ou- 
1am) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon 
all the altars there are spheres consecrated, made by magic, re- 
sembling the circles of the sun, and when the sun rises, these orbs 
seem to be inflamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They 
have every one a censer in their hands, and offer incense to the 
sun .” — Rabbi Benjamin. 

§ “ Nul d’entre eux oseroit se parjurer, quand il a pris k temoin 
cet element terrible et vengeur.” — Encyclopedic Franijoise. 


The Fire - Worshippers. 


255 


Brave, suffering souls ! they little knew 
How many a tear their injuries drew 
From one meek maid, one gentle foe. 

Whom love first touched with others’ woe — 

Whose life, as free from thought as sin. 

Slept like a lake, till Love threw in 
His talisman, and woke the tide. 

And spread its trembling circles wide. 

Once, Emir ! thy unheeding child, 

'Mid all this havoc, bloomed and smiled, — 

Tranquil as on some battle-plain 
The Persian lily shines and towers,* 

Before the combat’s reddening stain 
Hath fallen upon her golden flowers. 
Light-hearted maid, unawed, unmoved. 

While Heaven but spared the sire she loved. 

Once at thy evening tales of blood 
Unlistening and aloof she stood — 

And oft, when thou hast paced along 
Thy Haram halls with furious heat. 

Hast thou not cursed her cheerful song. 

That came across thee, calm and sweet. 

Like lutes of angels, touched so near 
Hell’s confines, that the damned can hear ! 

Far other feelings Love hath brought — 

Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness. 

She now has but the one dear thought. 

And thinks that o’er, almost to madness ! 

* “ A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the 
ploughed fields are covered with the Persian lily, of a resplendent 
yellow color.” — Russet's Aleppo. 




256 Lalla Rookh. 


Oft doth her sinking heart recall 
His words — “for my sake weep for all 



Hast thou not cursed her cheerful song.” 


And bitterly, as day on day 
Of rebel carnage fast succeeds, 

She weeps a lover snatched away 
In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. 
There’s not a sabre meets her eye, 


The Fire-Worshippers, 


257 


But with his life-blood seems to swim ; 
There’s not an arrow wings the sky. 

But fancy turns its point to him. 

No more she brings with footsteps light' 

Al Hassan’s falchion for the fight ; 

And — had he looked with clearer sight. 

Had not the mists, that ever rise 
From a foul spirit, dimmed his eyes, — 

He would have marked her shuddering frame. 
When from the field of blood he came. 

The faltering speech — the look estranged — 
Voice, step, and life, and beauty changed — 
He would have marked all this, and known 
Such change is wrought by Love alone ! 

Ah ! not the Love that should have blessed 
So young, so innocent a breast ; 

Not the pure, open, prosperous Love, 

That, pledged on earth and sealed above. 
Grows in the world’s approving eyes. 

In friendship’s smile and home’s caress. 
Collecting all the heart’s sweet ties 
Into one knot of happiness ! 

No, Hinda, no, — thy fatal flame 
Is nursed in silence, sorrow, shame ; — 

A passion, without hope or pleasure. 

In thy soul’s darkness buried deep. 

It lies, like some ill-gotten treasure, — 

Some idol, without shrine or name. 

O’er which its pale-eyed votaries keep 
Unholy watch, while others sleep. 


258 


Lalla Rookh. 


Seven nights have darkened Oman’s Sea, 

Since last, beneath the moonlight ray. 

She saw his light oar rapidly 

Hurry her Gheber’s bark away, — 

And still she goes, at midnight hour. 

To weep alone in that high bower. 

And watch, and look along the deep 

For him whose smiles first made her weep ; — 

But watching, weeping, all was vain ; 

She never saw his bark again. 

The o\vlet’s solitary cry. 

The night-hawk, flitting darkly by. 

And oft the hateful carrion bird, 

. Heavily flapping his clogged wing, 

Which reeked with that day’s banqueting — 

Was all she saw, was all she heard. 

’Tis the eighth morn — Al Hassan’s brow 
Is brightened with unusual joy — 

What mighty mischief glads him now. 

Who never smiles but to destroy } 

The sparkle upon Herkend’s Sea, 

When tossed at midnight furiously,* 

Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh. 

More surely than that smiling eye ! 

“ Up, daughter, up — the Kerna’sI breath 

♦“It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that 
when it is tossed by tempestuous winds, it sparkles like fire.” — 
Travels of Two Mohammedans. 

t A kind of trumpet ; — it “was that used by Tamerlane, the 
sound of which is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so loud 
as to be heard at the distance of several miles.” — Richardson. 


The Fire-Worshippers, 


259 


“ Has blown a blast would waken death, 

“ And yet thou sleep’st — up, child, and see 
“ This blessed day for Heaven and me, 

“ A day more rich in Pagan blood 
“ Than ever flashed o’er Oman’s flood. 

“ Before another dawn shall shine, 

“ His head — heart — limbs — will all be mine ; 

“ This veiy^ night his blood shall steep 
“ These hands all over ere I sleep !” — 

“ His blood !” she faintly screamed — her mind 
Still singling one from all mankind. — 

“Yes — spite of his ravines and towers, 

“ Hafed, my child, this night is ours. 

“ Thanks to all-conquering treachery, 

“ Without whose aid the links accurs’d 
“ That bind these impious slaves, would be 
“Too strong for Alla’s self to burst! 

“ That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread 
“ My path with piles of Moslem dead, 

“ Whose baffling spells had almost driven 
“ Back from their course the Swords of Heaven, 
“ This night, with all his band, shall know 
“ How deep an Arab’s steel can go, 

“When God and Vengeance speed the blow. 

“ And — Prophet 1 by that holy wreath . 

“ Thou wor’st on Ohod’s field of death,* 


* “ Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one, 
the latter of which, called A1 Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or 
wreathed garland, he wore at the battle of Ohod.” — Universal 
History. 





1 



His blood ! ^ she faintly screamed/’ 


•V, 







The Fire - JV or shippers. 


261 


“ I swear, for every sob that parts 
“ In anguish from these heathen hearts, 

“ A gem from Persia’s plundered mines 
“ Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines. 

“ But, ha ! — she sinks — that look so wild — 

“ Those livid lips — my child, my child, 

“ This life of blood befits not thee, 

“ And thou must back to Araby. 

“ Ne’er had I risked thy timid sex 
“ In scenes that man himself might dread, 

“ Had I not hoped our every tread 

“ Would be on prostrate Persian necks — 

“ Curs’d race, they offer swords instead ! 

“ But cheer thee, maid, — the wind that now 
“ Is blowing o’er thy feverish brow, 

“ To-day shall waft thee from the shore ; 

“ And, e’er a drop of this night’s gore 
“ Have time to chill in yonder towers, 

“ Thou ’It see thy own sweet Arab bowers !” 

His bloody boast was all too true ; 

There lurked one wretch among the few 
Whom Hafed’s eagle eye could count 
Around him on that Fiery Mount, — 

One miscreant, who for gold betrayed 
The pathway through the valley’s shade 
To those high towers, where Freedom stood 
In her last hold of flame and blood. 

Left on the field last dreadful night. 

When, sallying from their Sacred height. 

The Ghebers fought hope’s farewell fight, 


262 


Lalla Rookh 


He lay — but died not with the brave ; 

That sun, which should have gilt his grave 
Saw him a traitor and a slave ; — 

And, while the few, who thence returned 
To their high rocky fortress, mourned 
For him among the matchless dead 
They left behind on glory’s bed. 

He lived, and, in the face of morn. 

Laughed them and Faith and Heaven to scorn. 

O for a tongue to curse the slave. 

Whose treason, like a deadly blight. 

Comes o’er the councils of the brave. 

And blasts them in their hour of might ! 

May Life’s unblessed cup for him 
Be drugged with treacheries to the brim, — 

With hopes, that but allure to fly, 

With joys, that vanish while he sips. 

Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye. 

But turn to ashes on the lips !* 

* “ They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of this 
sea, which bear very lovely fruit, but within are all full of ashes.” 
— Thevenot. The same is asserted of the oranges there ; v. Wit- 
man's Travels in Asiatic Turkey. 

“ The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the Dead Sea, is 
very remarkable on account of the considerable proportion of salt 
which it contains. In this respect it surpasses every other known 
water on the surface of the earth. This great proportion of bitter 
tasted salts is the reason why neither animal nor plant can live in 
this water.” — Klaproth' s Chemical Analysis of the Water of the 
Dead Sea, Annals of Philosophy, Januarj^, 1813. Hasselquist^ 
however, doubts the truth of this last assertion, as there are shell- 
fish to be found in the lake. 

Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the Dead Sea, 


The Fire - W orshippers. 


263 


His country’s curse, his children’s shame. 
Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, 

May he, at last, with lips of flame 
On the parched desert thirsting die, — 
While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh,* 
Are fading off, untouched, untasted. 

Like the once glorious hopes he blasted ! 
And, when from earth his spirit flies. 

Just Prophet, let the damned-one dwell 
Full in the sight of Paradise, 

Beholding Heaven, and feeling hell ! 


in that wonderful display of genius, his third Canto of Childe 
Harold, — magnificent beyond anything, perhaps, that even he 
has ever written. 

* “ The Suhrab or Water of the Desert is said to be caused by 
the rarefaction of the atmosphere from extreme heat ; and, which 
augments the delusion, it is most frequent in hollows, where water 
might be expected to lodge. I have seen bushes and trees re- 
flected in it, with as much accuracy as though it had been the 
face of a clear and still lake.” — Pottinger. 

“ As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapor in a plain, 
which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, until when he 
cometh thereto he findeth it to be nothing.” — Koran, chap. 24. 


264 


Lalla Rookh. 


Lalla Rookh had, the night before, been vis- 
ited by a dream which, in spite of the impending 
fate of poor Hafed, made her heart more than 
usually cheerful during the morning, and gave her 
cheeks all the freshened animation of a flower that 
the Bid-musk has just passed over.* She fancied 
that she was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, where 
the sea-gypsies, who live forever on the water,! en- 
joy a perpetual summer in wandering from isle to 
isle, when she saw a small gilded bark approaching 
her. It was like one of those boats which the Mal- 

* “ A wind which prevails in February, called Bidmusk, from a 
small and odoriferous flower of that name.” — “ The wind which 
blows these flowers commonly lasts till the end of the month.” — 
L,e Bruyn. 

t “ The Biajiis are of two races ; the one is settled on Borneo, 
and are a rude but warlike and industrious nation, who reckon 
themselves the original possessors of the island of Borneo. The 
other is a species of sea-gypsies or itinerant fishermen, who live in 
small covered boats, and enjoy a perpetual summer on the eastern 
ocean, shifting to leeward from island to island, with the varia- 
tions of the monsoon. In some of their customs this singular race 
resemble the natives of the Maldivia islands. The Maldivians 
annually launch a small bark, loaded with perfumes, gums, 
flowers, and odoriferous wood, and turn it adrift at the mercy of 
winds and waves, as an offering to the Spirit 0/ the Winds ; and 
sometimes similar offerings are made to the spirit whom they 
term the King of the Sea. In like manner the Biajiis perform 
their offering to the god of evil, launching a small bark, loaded 
with all the sins and misfortunes of the nation, which are imagined 
to fall on the unhappy crew that may be so unlucky as first to 
meet with it.” — Dr. Leyden on the Languages and Literature of 
the Indo-Chinese Nations. 


Lalla Rookh. 


265 


divian islanders send adrift, at the mercy of winds 
and waves, loaded with perfumes, flowers, and 
odoriferous wood, as an offering- to the Spirit whom 
they call King of the Sea. At first, this little bark 
appeared to be empty, but, on coming nearer 

She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream 
to her Ladies, when Feramorz appeared at the 
door of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, 
everything else was forgotten, and the continuance 
of the story was instantly requested by all. Fresh 
wood of aloes was set to burn in the cassolets ; — 
the violet sherbets* were hastily handed round, and 
after a short ^ prelude on his lute, in the pathetic 
measure of Nava,t which is always used to express 
the lamentations of absent lovers, the Poet thus 
continued : — 

* “ The sweet-scented violet is one of the plants most esteemed, 
particularly for its great use in Sorbet, which they make of violet 
sugar.” — Hasselquist. 

‘‘ The sherbet they most esteem, and which is drank by the 
Grand Signior himself, is made of violets and sugar.” — Ta7>ernter. 

t ” Last of all she took a guitar, and sung a pathetic air in the 
measure called Nava, which is always used to express the lamen- 
tations of absent lovers.” — Persian Tales. 


266 


Lalla Rookh. 


The day is lowering — stilly black 
Sleeps the grim wave, while Heaven’s rack, 
Dispersed and wild, ’twixt earth and sky 
Hangs like a shattered canopy. 

There’s not a cloud in that blue plain 
But tells of storm to come or past ; — 
Here, flying loosely as the mane 

Of a young war-horse in the blast ; — 
There, rolled in masses dark and swelling. 
As proud to be the thunder’s dwelling ! 
While some, already burst and riven. 

Seem melting down the verge of Heaven ; 
As though the infant storm had rent 
The mighty womb that gave him birth. 
And, having swept the firmament. 

Was now in fierce career for earth. 

On earth ’twas yet all calm around, 

A pulseless silence, dread, profound. 

More awful than the tempest’s sound. 

The diver steered for Ormus’ bowers. 

And moored his skiff till calmer hours ; 

The sea-birds, with portentous screech. 
Flew fast to land ; — upon the beach 
The pilot oft had paused, with glance 
Turned upward to that wild expanse; — 
And all was boding, drear, and dark 
As her own soul, when H IN da’s bark 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


267 


Went slowly from the Persian shore. — 
No music timed her parting oar,* 

Nor friends upon the lessening strand 
Lingered, to wave the unseen hand. 

Or speak the farewell, heard no more ; — 
But lone, unheeded, from the bay 
The vessel takes its mournful way, 

Like some ill-destined bark that steers 
In silence through the Gate of Tears.t 


And where was stern Al Hassan then } 
Could not that saintly scourge of men 
From bloodshed and devotion spare 
One minute for a farewell there } 

No — close within, in changeful fits 
Of cursing and of prayer, he sits 
In savage loneliness to brood 
Upon the coming night of blood, — 

With that keen, second-sceijt of death. 
By which the vulture snuffs his food 
In the still warm and living breath 


* “ The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages with 
music.” — Hartner. 

t “ The Gate of Tears, the straits or passage into the Red Sea, 
commonly called Babelmandel. It received this name from the old 
Arabians, on account of the danger of the navigation, and the num- 
ber of shipwrecks by which it was distinguished ; which induced 
them to consider as dead, and to wear mourning for all who had 
the boldness to hazard the passage through it into the Ethiopic 
ocean.” — Richardson. 

$ “ I have been told that whensoever an animal falls down dead, 
one or more vultures, unseen before, instantly appear.” — Pennant. 


268 


Lalla Rookh. 


While o’er the wave his weeping daughter 
Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter, — 
As a young bird of Babylon,* 

Let loose to tell of victory won. 

Flies home, with wing, ah ! not unstained 
By the red hands that held her chained. 


And does the long-left home she seeks 
Light up no gladness on her cheeks ? 

The flowers she nursed — the well-known groves 
Where oft in dreams her spirit roves — 

Once more to see her dear gazelles 
Come bounding with their silver bells ; 

Her birds’ new plumage to behold. 

And the gay, gleaming fishes count. 

She left, all filleted with gold. 

Shooting around their jasper fount ;t 
Her little garden mosque to see. 

And once again, at evening hour. 

To tell her ruby rosary,^ 

In her own sweet acacia bower. — 


• “ They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat, or Baby- 
lonian pigeon.” — Travels of certain Englishmen. 

t“The Empress of Jehan-Guire used to divert herself with 
feeding tame fish in her canals, some of which were many years 
afterwards known by fillets of gold, which she caused to be pul 
round them.” — Harris, 

X “ Le Tespih, qui est un cbapelet, compose de 99 petites boules 
d’agathe de jaspe, d’ambre, de corail, ou d’autre matiere precieuse. 
J’en ai vu un superbe au Seigneur Jerpos ; il etoit de belles et 
grosses perles parfaites et egales, estime trente mille piastres.” — 
Toderini. 


The Fire-Worshippers, 


269 


Can these delights, that wait her now, 
Call up no sunshine on her brow ? 


“ Yes— Alla, dreadful Alla!” 

No, — silent, from her train apart, — 
As if ev’n now she felt at heart 
The chill of her approaching doom, — 
She sits, all lovely in her gloom 



270 


Lalla Rookh. 


As a pale Angel of the Grave ; 

And o’er the wide, tempestuous wave, 

Looks, with a shudder, to those towers. 

Where, in a few short awful hours. 

Blood, blood, in streaming tides shall run. 

Foul incense for to-morrow’s sun ! 

“ Where art thou, glorious stranger ! thou, 

“ So loved, so lost, where art thou now ? 

“ Foe — Gheber — infidel — whate’er 
“ The’ unhallowed name thou’rt doomed to bear 
“ Still glorious — still to this fond heart 
“ Dear as its blood, whate’er thou art ! 

“Yes — Alla, dreadful Alla! yes — 

“ If there be wrong, be crime in this, 

“ Let the black waves that round us roll, 

“ Whelm me this instant, ere my soul, 

“ Forgetting faith — home — father — all — 

“ Before its earthly idol fall, 

“ Nor worship ev’n Thyself above him — 

“ For, O, so wildly do I love him, 

“ Thy Paradise itself were dim 
“ And joyless, if not shared with him !” 

Her hands were clasped — her eyes upturned. 
Dropping their tears like moonlight rain ; 

And, though her lip, fond raver ! burned 
With words of passion, bold, profane. 

Yet was there light around her brow, 

A holiness in those dark eyes. 

Which showed, — though wandering earthward 
now, — 


The Fire - W or shippers. 


271 


Her spirit’s home was in the skies. 

Yes — for a spirit pure as hers 
Is always pure, ev’n while it errs ; 

As sunshine, broken in the rill. 

Though turned astray, is sunshine still ! 

So wholly had her mind forgot 
All thoughts but one, she heeded not 
The rising storm — the wave that cast 
A moment’s midnight, as it passed — 

Nor heard the frequent shout, the tread 
Of gathering tumult o’er her head — 

Clashed swords, and tongues that seemed to vie 
With the rude riot of the sky. — 

But, hark ! — that war-whoop on the deck — 

That crash, as if each engine there. 

Mast, sails, and all, were gone to wreck, 

’Mid yells and stampings of despair ! 

Merciful Heaven ! what ca7i it be } 

’Tis not the storm, though fearfully 
The ship has shuddered as she rode 
O’er mountain-waves — “ Forgive me, God ! 

“ Forgive me” — shrieked the maid, and knelt. 
Trembling all over — for she felt 
As if her judgment-hour was near ; 

While crouching round, half dead with fear. 

Her handmaids clung, nor breathed, nor stirred — 
When, hark ! — a second crash — a third — 

And now, as if a bolt of thunder 
Had riven the laboring planks asunder. 

The deck falls in — what horrors then ! 

Blood, waves, and tackle, swords and men 


272 


Lalla Rookh, 


Come mixed together through the chasm, — 
Some wretches in their dying spasm 
Still fighting on — and some that call 
“ For God and Iran !” as they fall ! 

Whose was the hand that turned away 
The perils of the’ infuriate fray, 

And snatched her breathless from beneath 
This wilderment of wreck and death ? 

She knew not — for a faintness came 
Chill o’er her, and her sinking frame 
Amid the ruins of that hour 
Lay, like a pale and scorched flower. 
Beneath the red volcano’s shower. 

But, O ! the sights and sounds of dread 
That shocked her ere her senses fled ! 

The yawning deck — the crowd that strove 
Upon the tottering planks above — 

The sail, whose fragments, shivering o’er 
The strugglers’ heads, all dashed with gore, 
Fluttered like bloody flags — the clash 
Of sabres, and the lightning’s flash 
Upon their blades, high tossed about 
Like meteor brands* — as if throughout 
The elements one fury ran. 

One general rage, that left a doubt 

Which was the fiercer. Heaven or Man ! 

Once too — but no — it could not be — 

'Twas fancy all — ^yet once she thought, 

* The meteors that Pliny calls “ faces.” 


The Fire- Worshippers, 


273 


While yet her fading eyes could see, 

High on the ruined deck she caught 
A glimpse of that unearthly form, 

That glory of her soul, — ev’n then. 

Amid the whirl of wreck and storm. 

Shining above his fellow-men. 

As, on some black and troublous night. 

The Star of Egypt,* whose proud light 
Never hath beamed on those who rest 
In the White Islands of the West,t 
Burns through the storm with looks of flame 
That put Heaven’s cloudier eyes to shame. 

But no — ’twas but the minute’s dream — 

A fantasy — and ere the scream 
Had half-way passed her pallid lips, 

A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse 
Of soul and sense its darkness spread 
Around her, and she sunk, as dead. 

How calm, how beautiful comes on 
The stilly hour, when storms are gone ; 

When warring winds have died away. 

And clouds, beneath the glancing ray. 

Melt off, and leave the land and sea 
Sleeping in bright tranquillity, — 

F resh as if Day again were born. 

Again upon the lap of Morn ! — • 

When the light blossoms, rudely torn 

* “ The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European climates.” — 
Brown. 

t Sec Wilford’s learned Essays on the Sacred Isles in the West. 


274 


Lalla Rookh. 


And scattered at the whirlwind’s will, 
Hang floating in the pure air still, 

Filling it all with precious balm. 

In gratitude for this sweet calm ; — 

And every drop the thunder-showers 
Have left upon the grass and flowers 
Sparkles, as ’twere that lightning-gem* 
Whose liquid flame is born of them ! 
When, ’stead of one unchanging breeze. 
There blow a thousand gentle airs. 
And each a different perfume bears, — 
As if the loveliest plants and trees 
Had vassal breezes of their own 
To watch and wait on them alone. 

And waft no other breath than theirs : 
When the blue waters rise and fall. 

In sleepy sunshine mantling all ; 

And ev’n that swell the tempest leaves 
Is like the full and silent heaves 
Of lovers’ hearts, when newly bless’d. 
Too newly to be quite at rest. 

Such was the golden hour that broke 
Upon the world, when Hinda woke 
From her long trance, and heard around 
No motion but the water’s sound 


* A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients Cerau- 
nium, because it was supposed to be found in places where thunder 
had fallen. Tertullian says it has a glittering appearance, as if 
there had been fire in it ; and the author of the Dissertation in 
Harris’s Voyages supposes it to be the opal. 


The Fire - W or shippers. 


275 


Rippling- against the vessel’s side, 

As slow it mounted o’er the tide. — 

But where is she } — her eyes are dark. 

Are wildered still — is this the bark. 

The same, that from Harmozia’s bay 
Bore her at morn — whose bloody way 
The sea-dog tracked } — no — strange and new 
Is all that meets her wondering view. 

Upon a galliot’s deck she lies. 

Beneath no rich pavilion’s shade, — 

No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes. 

Nor jasmine on her pillow laid. 

But the rude litter, roughly spread 
With war-cloaks, is her homely bed. 

And shawl and sash, on javelins hung. 

For awning o’er her head are flung. 
Shuddering she looked around — there lay 
A group of warriors in the sun. 

Resting their limbs, as for that day 
Their ministry of death were done. 

Some gazing on the drowsy* sea. 

Lost in unconscious reverie ; 

And some, who seemed but ill to brook 
That sluggish calm, with many a look 
To the slack sail impatient cast. 

As loose it flagged around the mast. 

Bless’d Alla ! who shall save her now.^ 
There’s not in all that warrior band 
One Arab sword, one turbaned brow 
From her own Faithful Moslem land. 


276 


Lalla Rookh, 


Their garb — the leathern belt* that wraps 
Each yellow vestf — that rebel hue — 

The Tartar fleece upon their capsj — 

Yes — yes — her fears are all too true, 

And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour. 
Abandoned her to Hafed’s power 
Hafed, the Gheber ! — at the thought 
Her very heart’s blood chills within ; 

He, whom her soul was hourly taught 
- To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin. 

Some minister, whom Hell had sent 
To spread its blast, where’er he went. 

And fling, as o’er our earth he trod. 

His shadow betwixt man and God ! 

And she is now his captive, — thrown 
In his fierce hands, alive, alone ; 

His the infuriate band she sees. 

All infidels — all enemies ! 

What was the daring hope that then 
Crossed her like lightning, as again. 

With boldness that despair had lent. 

She darted through that armed crowd 
A look so searching, so intent. 

That ev’n the sternest warrior bowed 
Abashed, when he her glances caught. 

As if he guessed whose form they sought ? 

* D' Herbelot, art. Agduani. 

t “ The Guebres are known by a dark yellow color, which the 
men affect in their clothes.” — Thevenot, 

t “ The Kolah, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of the 
skin of the sheep of Tartary.” — Waring. 


The Fire - W orshippers. 


277 


But no — she sees him not — ’tis gone. 

The vision that before her shone 
Through all the maze of blood and storm. 

Is fled — ’twas but a phantom form — 

One of those passing, rainbow dreams. 

Half light, half shade, which Fancy’s beams 
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll 
In trance or slumber round the soul. 

But now the bark, with livelier bound. 

Scales the blue wave — the crew’s in motion. 
The oars are out, and with light sound 
Break the bright mirror of the ocean. 
Scattering its brilliant fragments round. 

And now she sees — with horror sees. 

Their course is toward that mountain-hold, — 
Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze. 
Where Mecca’s godless enemies 
Lie, like beleaguered scorpions, rolled 
In their last deadly, venomous fold ! 

Amid the’ illumined land and flood 
Sunless that mighty mountain stood ; 

Save where, above its awful head. 

There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red. 

As ’twere the flag of destiny 

Hung out to mark where death would be ! 

Had her bewildered mind the power 
Of thought in this terrific hour. 

She well might marvel where or how 
Man’s foot could scale that mountain’s brow, 


278 


Lalla Rookh. 


Since ne’er had Arab heard or known 
Of path but through the glen alone. — 

But every thought was lost in fear. 

When, as their bounding bark drew near 
The craggy base, she felt the waves 
Hurry them toward those dismal caves. 
That from the Deep in windings pass 
Beneath that Mount’s volcanic mass ; — 
And loud a voice on deck commands 
To lower the mast and light the brands ! — 
Instantly o’er the dashing tide 
Within a cavern’s mouth they glide. 
Gloomy as that eternal Porch 

Through which departed spirits go : — 
Not ev’n the flare of brand and torch 
Its flickering light could further throw 
Than the thick flood that boiled below. 
Silent they floated — as if each 
Sat breathless, and too awed for speech 
In that dark chasm, where even sound 
Seemed dark, — so sullenly around 
The goblin echoes of the cave 
Muttered it o’er the long black wave 
As ’twere some secret of the grave ! 

But soft — they pause — the current turns 
Beneath them from its onward track ; — 
Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns 
The vexed tide, all foaming, back. 

And scarce the oars’ redoubled force 
Can stem the eddy’s whirling course ; 


The Fire-Worshippers, 


279 


When, hark ! — some desperate foot has sprung 
Among the rocks — the chain is flung — 

The oars are up — the grapple clings, 

And the tossed bark in moorings swings. 

Just then, a day-beam through the shade 
Broke tremulous^ — but, ere the maid 
Can see from whence the brightness steals. 
Upon her brow she shuddering feels 
A viewless hand, that promptly ties 
A bandage round her burning eyes ; 

While the rude litter where she lies. 

Uplifted by the warrior throng. 

O’er the steep rocks is borne along. 

Blest power of sunshine ! — genial Day, 

What balm, what life is in thy ray ! 

To feel thee is such real bliss. 

That had the world no joy but this. 

To sit in sunshine calm and sweet, — 

It were a world too exquisite 
For man to leave it for the gloom. 

The deep, cold shadow of the tomb. 

Ev’n Hinda, though she saw not where 
Or whither wound the perilous road. 

Yet knew by that awakening air. 

Which suddenly around her glowed. 

That they had risen from darkness then. 

And breathed the sunny world again ! 

But soon this balmy freshness fled — 

For now the steepy labyrinth led 


Lalla Rookh. 


280 



Through damp and gloom 
■ — ’ mid crash of 
boughs 

And fall of loosened crags 
that rouse 

The leopard from his hun- 
gry sleep, 

Who, starting, thinks 
each crag a prey. 

And long is heard, from 
steep to steep. 
Chasing them down 
their thundering 
way ! 

The jackal’s cry — the 
distant moan 
Of the hyaena, fierce 
and lone — 

And that eternal sad- 
dening sound 
Of torrents in the 
glen beneath. 

As ’twere the ever- 
dark Profound 

That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death ! 

All, all is fearful — ev’n to see. 

To gaze on those terrific things 
She now but blindly hears, would be 
Relief to her imaginings ; 

Since never yet was shape so dread. 

But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown. 


“ Tremble not, love, thy Ghe- 
ber’s here.” 


The Fire- Worshippers. 


281 


And by such sounds of horror fed, 

Could franne more dreadful of her own. 

But does she dream ? has Fear again 
Perplexed the workings of her brain. 

Or did a voice, all music, then 

Come from the gloom, low whispering near— 

“Tremble not, love, thy Gheber’s here?” 

She does not dream — all sense, all ear. 

She drinks the words, “ Thy Gheber’s here.” 
'Twas his own voice — she could not err — 
Throughout the breathing world’s extent 
There was but one such voice for her. 

So kind, so soft, so eloquent ! 

O, sooner shall the rose of May 
Mistake her own sweet nightingale. 

And to some meaner minstrel’s lay 
Open her bosom’s glowing veil,* 

Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, 

A breath of the beloved one ! 

Though bless’d, ’mid all her ills, to think 
She has that one beloved near. 

Whose smile, though met on ruin’s brink. 
Hath power to make ev’n ruin dear, — 

Yet soon this gleam of rapture, crossed 
By fears for him, is chilled and lost. 


* A frequent image among the oriental poets. “ The nightin- 
gales warbled their enchanting notes, and rent the thin veils of 
the rose-bud and the rose,"— Janti, 


282 


Lalla Rookh. 


How shall the ruthless Hafed brook 
That one of Gheber blood should look. 

With aught but curses in his eye, 

On her — a maid of Araby — 

A Moslem maid — the child of him. 

Whose bloody banner’s dire success 
Hath left their altars cold and dim. 

And their fair land a wilderness ! 

And, worse than all, that night of blood 
Which comes so fast — O ! who shall stay 
The sword, that once hath tasted food 
Of Persian hearts, or turn its way ? 

What arm shall then the victim cover. 

Or from her father shield her lover ? 

“ Save him, my God !” she inly cries — 

“ Save him this night — and if thine eyes 
“ Have ever welcomed with delight 
“ The sinner’s tears, the sacrifice 

“ Of sinners’ hearts — guard him this night, 

“ And here, before thy throne, I swear 
“From my heart’s inmost core to tear 

“ Love, hope, remembrance, though they be 
“ Linked with each quivering life-string there, 
“ And give it bleeding all to Thee ! 

“ Let him but live, — the burning tear, 

“ The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear, 

“ Which have been all too much his own, 

“ Shall from this hour be Heaven’s alone. 
“Youth passed in penitence, and age 
“ In long and painful pilgrimage. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


283 



“ Shall leave no traces of the flame 

“ That wastes me now — nor shall 
his name 

“ E’er bless my lips, but when I 
pray 

“ For his dear spirit, that 
away 

“ Casting from its an- 
gelic ray 

“ The’ eclipse of earth, 
he, too, may shine 

“ Redeemed, all glorious 
and all Thine ! 

“Think — think what victory to S, ^ 
win 

“ One radiant soul like his from 


sin, — 


“ One wandering star of virtue 


“ ‘ Save him, my God ! ’ 

INLY CRIES.” 


back 

“ To its own native, heaveu-ward track ! 

“ Let him but live, and both are Thine, 

“ Together thine — for, blessed or crossed, 
“ Living or dead, his doom is mine, 

“ And, if he perish, both are lost !” 


SHE 


284 


Lalla Rookh. 


The next evening Lalla Rookh was entreated 
by her Ladies to continue the relation of her won- 
derful dream ; but the fearful interest that hung 
round the fate of HiNDA and her lover had com- 
pletely removed every trace of it from her mind ; — 
much to the disappointment of a fair seer or two in 
her train, who prided themselves on their skill in 
interpreting visions, and who had already remarked, 
as an unlucky omen, that the Princess, on the very 
morning after the dream, had worn a silk dyed with 
the blossoms of the sorrowful tree, Nilica.* 

Fadladeen, whose indignation had more than 
once broken out during the recital of some parts of 
this heterodox poem, seemed at length to have made 
up his mind to the infliction ; and took his seat this 
evening with all the patience of a martyr, while the 
Poet resumed his profane and seditious story as fol- 
lows : — 

* “ Blossoms of the sorrowful Nyctanthes give a durable color 
to silk.” — Remarks on the Husbandry of Bengal, p. 200. Nilica 
is one of the Indian names of this flower . — Sir IV. Jones, The 
Persians call it Gull. — Carreri, 


The Fire-Worshippers, 


285 


To tearless eyes and hearts at ease 
The leafy shores and sun-bright seas, 

That lay beneath that mountain’s height, 

Had been a fair, enchanting sight. 

’Twas one of those ambrosial eves 
A day of storm so often leaves 
At its calm setting — when the West 
Opens her golden bowers of rest. 

And a moist radiance from the skies 
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 
Of some meek penitent, whose last. 

Bright hours atone for dark ones past. 

And whose sweet tears, o’er wrong forgiven. 
Shine, as they fall, with light from Heaven ! 

'Twas stillness all — the winds that late 

Had rushed through Kerman’s almond groves. 
And shaken from her bowers of date 
That cooling feast the traveller loves,* 

Now, lulled to languor, scarcely curl 

The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam 
Limpid, as if her mines of pearl 

Were melted all to form the stream ; 

And her fair islets, small and bright. 

With their green shores reflected there 


* “ In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from the 
trees by the wind they do not touch, but leave them for those who 
have not any, or for travellers .” — Ebn Haukal, 


286 


Lalla Rookh. 


Look like those Peri isles of light, 
That hang by spell-work in the air. 



She shuddering turned to read her fate.” 


But vainly did those glories burst 
On Hinda’s dazzled eyes, when first 
The bandage from her brow was taken. 
And, pale and awed as those who waken 
In their dark tombs — when, scowling near. 


The Fire - Worshippers. 


287 


The Searchers of the Grave* appear, — 
She shuddering' turned to read her fate 
In the fierce eyes that flashed around ; 
And saw those towers all desolate, 

That o’er her head terrific frowned. 

As if defying ev’n the smile 

Of that soft Heaven to gild their pile. 

In vain with mingled hope and fear. 

She looks for him whose voice so dear 
Had come, like music, to her ear — 
Strange, mocking dream ! again ’tis fled. 
And O, the shoots, the pangs of dread 
That through her inmost bosom run. 
When voices from without proclaim 
“ Hafed, the Chief ” — and, one by one. 
The warriors shout that fearful name ! 
He comes — the rock resounds his tread — 
How shall she dare to lift her head. 

Or meet those eyes whose scorching glare 
Not Yemen’s boldest sons can bear.> 

In whose red beam, the Moslem tells. 
Such rank and deadly lustre dwells. 

As in those hellish fires that light 
The mandrake’s charnel leaves at night.f 
How shall she bear that voice’s tone. 

At whose loud battle-cry alone 


* The two terrible angels, Monkir and Nakir, who are called 
“the Searchers of the Grave” in the “Creed of the orthodox 
Mahometans” given by Ockley., vol. ii. 

t “The Arabians call the mandrake ‘the Devil’s candle,’ on 
account of its shining appearance in the night.” — Richardson. 


288 


Lalla Rookh. 


Whole squadrons oft in panic ran. 

Scattered like some vast caravan, 

When, stretched at evening round the 'well, 
They hear the thirsting tiger’s yell ? 


Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down, 
Shrinking beneath the fiery frown, 

Which, fancy tells her, from that brow 
Is flashing o’er her fiercely now ; 

And shuddering as she hears the tread 
Of his retiring warrior band. — 

Never was pause so full of dread ; 

Till Ha FED with a trembling hand 
Took hers, and, leaning o’er her, said, 

“ Hinda — that word was all he spoke. 

And ’twas enough — the shriek that broke 
From her full bosom, told the rest. — 

Panting with terror, joy, surprise. 

The maid but lifts her wondering eyes. 

To hide them on her Gheber’s breast ! 

’Tis he, ’tis he — the man of blood. 

The fellest of the Fire-fiend’s brood, 

Hafed, the demon of the fight. 

Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight, — 
Is her own loved Gheber, mild 
And glorious as when first he smiled 
In her lone tower, and left such beams 
Of his pure eye to light her dreams. 

That she believed her bower had given 
Rest to some wanderer from Heaven ! 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


289 


Moments there are, and this was one, 

Snatched like a minute’s gleam of sun 
Amid the black Simoom’s eclipse — 

Or, like those verdant spots that bloom 
Around the crater’s burning lips. 

Sweetening the very edge of doom ! 

The past — the future— all that Fate 
Can bring of dark or desperate 
Around such hours, but makes them cast 
Intenser radiance while they last ! 

Ev’n he, this youth — though dimmed and gone 
Each star of Hope that cheered him on — 

His glories lost — his cause betrayed — 

Iran, his dear-loved country', made 
A land of carcasses and slaves. 

One dreary waste of chains and graves ! — 
Himself but lingering, dead at heart, 

To see the last, long struggling breath 
Of Liberty’s great soul depart, 

Then lay him down and share her death — 
Ev’n he, so sunk in wretchedness, 

With doom still darker gathering o’er him. 
Yet, in this moment’s pure caress. 

In the mild eyes that shone before him. 
Beaming that blest assurance, worth 
All other transports known on earth. 

That he was loved — well, warmly loved — 

O ! in this precious hour he proved 
How deep, how thorough-felt the glow 
Of rapture, kindling out of woe ; — 


290 


Lalla Rookh. 


How exquisite one single drop 
Of bliss, thus sparkling to the top 
Of misery’s cup — how keenly quaffed, 
Though death must follow on the draught ! 

She, too, while gazing on those eyes 
That sink into her soul so deep. 

Forgets all fears, all miseries. 

Or feels them like the wretch in sleep, 
Whom fancy cheats into a smile. 

Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while ! 

The mighty Ruins where they stood. 

Upon the mount’s high, rocky verge. 

Lay open towards the ocean flood. 

Where lightly o’er the illumined surge 
Many a fair bark that, all the day. 

Had lurked in sheltering creek or bay. 

Now bounded on, and gave their sails. 

Yet dripping, to the evening gales; 

Like eagles, when the storm is done. 
Spreading their wet wings in the sun. 

The beauteous clouds, though daylight’s Star 
Had sunk behind the hills of Lar, 

Were still with lingering glories bright, — 

As if, to grace the gorgeous West, 

The Spirit of departing Light 
That eve had left his sunny vest 

Behind him, ere he winged his flight. 

Never was scene so formed for love ! 

Beneath them waves of crystal move 
In silent swell — Heaven glows above. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


291 


And their pure hearts, to transport given, 
Swell like the wave, and glow like Heaven. 
But ah ! too soon that dream is past — 

Again, again her fear returns ; — 

Night, dreadful night, is gathering fast, 

More faintly the horizon burns. 

And every rosy tint that lay 
On the smooth sea hath died away. 

Hastily to the darkening skies 
A glance she casts — then wildly cries, 

“At flight, he said — and, look, ’tis near — 

“ Fly, fly — if yet thou lov’st me, fly — 

“ Soon will his murderous band be here, 

“ And I shall see thee bleed and die. — 

“ Hush ! heard’st thou not the tramp of men 
“ Sounding from yonder fearful glen ? — 

“ Perhaps ev’n now they climb the wood — 

■“ Fly, fly — though still the West is bright, 

“ He’ll come — O ! yes — he wants thy blood — 
“ I know him — he’ll not wait for night !” 

In terrors ev’n to agony 

She clings around the wondering Chief ; — 
“ Alas, poor wildered maid ! to me 

“ Thou ow’st this raving trance of grief. 

“ Lost as I am, nought ever grew 
“ Beneath my shade but perished too — 

“ My doom is like the Dead Sea air, 

“ And nothing lives that enters there ! 

“ Why were our barks together driven 
“ Beneath this morning’s furious Heaven } 


292 


Lalla Rookh. 


“ Why, when I saw the prize that chance 
Had thrown into my desperate arms, — 
“ When, casting but a single glance 
" Upon thy pale and prostrate charms. 



She clings around the wondering Chief.” 


“ I vow’ed (though watching viewless o’er 
“ Thy safety through that hour’s alarms) 
“To meet the' unmanning sight no more— 
“ Why have I broke that heart-wrung vow ? 
“ Why weakly, madly met thee now ? — 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


293 


“ Start not — that noise is but the shock 
“ Of torrents through yon valley hurled — 

“ Dread nothing here — upon this rock 
“ We stand above the jarring world, 

“ Alike beyond its hope — its dread — 

“ In gloomy safety, like the Dead ! 

“ Or, could ev’n earth and hell unite 
“ In league to storm this Sacred Height, 

“ Fear nothing thou — myself, to-night, 

“ And each o’erlooking star that dwells 
“ Near God, will be thy sentinels ; — 

“ And, ere to-morrow’s dawn shall glow, 

“ Back to thy sire ” 

“ To-morrow ! — no — ” 
The maiden screamed — “ thou’lt never see 
“ To-morrow’s sun — death, death will be 
“ The night-cry through each reeking tower, 

“ Unless we fly, ay, fly this hour ! 

“ Thou art betrayed — some wretch who knew 
“ That dreadful glen’s mysterious clew — 

“ Nay, doubt not — by yon stars, ’tis true — 

“ Hath sold thee to my vengeful sire ; 

“ This morning, with that smile so dire 
“ He wears in joy, he told me all, 

“ And stamped in triumph through our hall, 

“ As though thy heart already beat 
“ Its last life-throb beneath his feet ! 

“ Good Heaven, how little dreamed I then 
“ His victim was my own loved youth ! — 

“ Fly — send — let some one watch the glen — 

“ By all my hopes of Heaven, ’tis truth !” 


294 


Lalla Rookh. 


O ! colder than the wind that freezes 
Founts, that but now in sunshine played, 

Is that congealing pang which seizes 
The trusting bosom, when betrayed. 

He felt it — deeply felt — and stood. 

As if the tale had frozen his blood, 

So mazed and motionless was he ; — 

Like one whom sudden spells enchant. 

Or some mute, marble habitant 
Of the still Halls of ISHMONIE !* 

But soon the painful chill was o’er. 

And his great soul, herself once more. 

Looked from his brow in all the rays 
Of her best, happiest, grandest days. 

Never, in moment most elate. 

Did that high spirit loftier rise ; — 

While bright, serene, determinate. 

His looks are lifted to the skies. 

As if the signal lights of Fate 

Were shining in those awful eyes ! 

’Tis come — his hour of martyrdom 
In Iran’s sacred cause is come ; 

And, though his life hath passed away 
Like lightning on a stormy day. 

Yet shall his death-hour leave a track 
Of glory, permanent and bright. 

To which the brave of after-times. 

The suffering brave, shall long look back 

* For an account of Ishmonie, the petrified city in Upper 
Egypt, where it is said ^here are many statues of men, women, 
&c., to be seen to this day, see Perry's View of the Levant. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


295 


With proud regret, — and by its light 
Watch through the hours of slavery’s night 
For vengeance on the’ oppressor’s crimes. 
This rock, his monument aloft. 

Shall speak the tale to many an age ; 

And hither bards and heroes oft 
Shall come in secret pilgrimage. 

And bring their warrior sons, and tell 
The wondering boys where Hafed fell ; 

And swear them on those lone remains 
Of their lost country’s ancient fanes. 

Never — while breath of life shall live 
Within them — never to forgive 
The’ accursed race, whose ruthless chain 
Hath left on Iran’s neck a stain 
Blood, blood alone can cleanse again ! 

Such are the swelling thoughts that now 
Enthrone themselves on Hafed’S brow ; 

And ne’er did Saint of ISSA* gaze 

On the red wreath, for martyrs twined. 
More proudly than the youth surveys 

That pile, which through the gloom behind. 
Half lighted by the altar’s fire. 

Glimmers — his destined funeral pyre ! 

Heaped by his own, his comrades’ hands. 

Of every wood of odorous breath. 

There, by the Fire-God’s shrine it stands. 
Ready to fold in radiant death 


Jesus. 


296 


Lalla Rookh. 


The few still left of those who swore 
To perish there, when hope was o’er — 

The fev^, to whom that couch of flame, 

Which rescues them 
from bonds and 
shame, 

Is sweet and wel- 
come as the bed 
F or their own infant 
Prophet spread, 
When pitying 
Heaven to roses 
turned 

The death-flames 
that beneath 
him burned 

With watchfulness 
the maid attends 
His rapid glance, where’er it bends — 

Why shoot his eyes such awful beams ? 

What plans he now ? what thinks or dreams ? 



* The Ghebers say- that when Abraham, their great Prophet, 
v/as thrown into the fire by order of Nimrod, the flame turned in- 
stantly into “ a bed of roses, where the child sweetly reposed.” — 
Tavernier. 

Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story told in Dion 
Prusaeus, Orat. 36, that, the love of wisdom and virtue leading 
him to a solitary life upon a mountain, he found it one day all in 
a flame, shining with celestial fire, out of which he came without 
any harm, and instituted certain sacrifices to God, who, he de- 
clared, then appeared to him. — v. Patrick on Exodus, iii. 2. 



298 


Lalla Rookho 


Alas ! why stands he musing here, 

When ever)’ moment teems with fear ? 

“ Hafed, my own beloved Lord,” 

She kneeling cries — “ first, last adored ! 

“ If in that soul thou’st ever felt 

“ Half what thy lips impassioned swore 
“ Here, on my knees that never knelt 
“To any but their God before, 

“ I pray thee, as thou lov’st me, fly — 

“ Now, now — ere yet their blades are nigh. 

“ O haste — the bark that bore me hither 
“ Can waft us o’er yon darkening sea 
“ East — west — alas, I care not whither, 

“ So thou art safe, and I with thee ! 

“ Go where we will, this hand in thine, 

“ Those eyes before me smiling thus, 

“ Through good and ill, through storm and shine 
“ The world’s a world of love for us ! 

“ On some calm, blessed shore we’ll dwell, 

“ Where ’tis no crime to love too well ; — 

“ Where thus to worship tenderly 
“ An erring child of light like thee 
“ Will not be sin — or, if it be, 

“ Where we may weep our faults away, 

“ Together kneeling, night and day, 

“ Thou, for my sake, at Alla’S shrine, 

“ And I — at any God’s, for thine !” 

Wildly these passionate words she spoke — 

Then hung her head, and wept for shame ; 
Sobbing, as if a heart-string broke 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


299 


With every deep-heaved sob that came. 
While he, young, warm — O ! wonder not 
If, for a moment, pride and fame. 

His oath — his cause — that shrine of flame, 
And Iran’s self are all forgot 
For her whom at his feet he sees 
Kneeling in speechless agonies. 

No, blame him not, if Hope awhile 
Dawned in his soul, and threw her smile 
O’er hours to come — o’er days and nights. 
Winged with those precious, pure delights 
Which she, who bends all beauteous there. 
Was born to kindle and to share. 

A tear or two, which, as he bowed 

To raise the suppliant, trembling stole. 
First warned him of this dangerous cloud 
Of softness passing o’er his soul. 

Starting, he brushed the drops away. 
Unworthy o’er that cheek to stray; — 

Like one who, on the morn of fight. 

Shakes from his sword the dews of night. 
That had but dimmed, not stained its light. 

Yet, though subdued the’ unnervdng thrill. 

Its warmth, its weakness lingered still 
So touching in each look and tone. 

That the fond, fearing, hoping maid 
Half counted on the flight she prayed. 

Half thought the hero’s soul was grown 
As soft, as yielding as her own. 

And smiled and blessed him, while he said, — 


300 


Lalla Rookh 



“A SIGNAL, DEEP AND DREAd/^ 


“ Yes — if there be some happier sphere, 

“ Where fadeless truth like ours is dear, — 
“ If there be any land of rest 


The Fire-Worshippers, . 301 


“ For those who love and ne’er forget, 

“ O ! comfort thee — for safe and bless’d 
“ We’ll meet in that calm region yet !” 

Scarce had she time to ask her heart 
If good or ill these w'ords impart. 

When the roused youth impatient flew 
To the tow^er-w'all, w'here, high in view, 

A ponderous sea-horn,* hung, and blew 
A signal, deep and dread as those 
The storm-fiend at his rising blows. — 

Full w^ell his Chieftains, sworn and true 
Through life and death, that signal knew ; 
For ’tw'as the’ appointed warning blast. 
The’ alarm, to tell w'hen hope w'as past. 
And the tremendous death-die cast ! 

And there, upon the mouldering tower. 
Hath hung this sea-horn many an hour. 
Ready to sound o’er land and sea 
That dirge-note of the brave and free. 

They came — his Chieftains at the call 
Came slowly round, and with them all — 
Alas, how few ! — the worn remains 
Of those who late o’er Kerman’s plains 
Went gayly prancing to the clash 
Of Moorish zel and tymbalon. 


* “ The shell called Siiankos, common to India, Africa, and the 
Mediterranean, and still used in many parts as a trumpet for 
blowing alarms or giving signals : it sends forth a deep and hollow 
sound.” — Pennant. 


302 


Lalla Rookh. 


Catching new hope from every flash 
Of their long lances in the sun, 

And, as their coursers charged the wind. 
And the white ox-tails streamed behind,* 
Looking, as if the steeds they rode 
Were winged, and every Chief a God ! 

How fallen, how altered now I how wan 
Each scarred and faded visage shone. 

As round the burning shrine they came ; — 
How deadly was the glare it cast. 

As mute they paused before the flame 
To light their torches as they passed ! 
’Twas silence all — the youth hath planned 
The duties of his soldier-band ; 

And each determined brow declares 
His faithful Chieftains well know theirs. 


But minutes speed — night gems the skies — 
And O, how soon, ye blessed eyes. 

That look from Heaven, ye may behold 
Sights that will turn your star-fires cold ! 
Breathless with awe, impatience, hope. 

The maiden sees the veteran group 
Her litter silently prepare. 

And lay it at her trembling feet ; — 

And now the youth, with gentle care. 

Hath placed her in the sheltered seat. 


* “ The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large flying 
tassels of long white hair, taken out of the tails of wild oxen, that 
are to be found in some places of the Indies.” — Thevenot, 


The Fire-Worshippers, 


303 


And pressed her hand — that lingering press 
Of hands, that for the last time sever ; 

Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness, v 
When that hold breaks, is dead forever.' 

And yet to her this sad caress 

Gives hope — so fondly hope can err ! 

’Twas joy, she thought, joy’s mute excess — 
Their happy flight’s dear harbinger; 

’Twas warmth — assurance — tenderness — 

’Twas any thing but leaving her. 

“ Haste, haste !” she cried, “ the clouds grow dark, 
“ But still, ere night, we’ll reach the bark ; 

“ And by to-morrow’s dawn — O bliss ! 

“ With thee upon the sun-bright deep, 

“ Far off. I’ll but remember this, 

“ As some dark, vanished dream of sleep : 

“ And thou ” but ah ! — he answers not — 

Good Heaven ! — and does she go alone } 

She now has reached that dismal spot, 

Where, some hours since, his voice’s tone 
Had come to soothe her fears and ills. 

Sweet as the angel Israfil’s,* 

When every leaf on Eden’s tree 
Is trembling to his minstrelsy — 

Yet now — O, now, he is not nigh. — 

“ Hafed ! my Hafed ! — if it be 
“ Thy will, thy doom this night to die, 

“ Let me but stay to die with thee, 

* “ The angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voice of all 
God’s creatures.” — Sale, 


304 


Lalla Rookh, 


“ And I will bless thy loved name, 

“ Till the last life-breath leave this frame. 

“ O ! let our lips, our cheeks be laid 
“ But near each other while they fade ; 

“ Let us but mix our parting breaths* 

“ And I can die ten thousand deaths ! 

“You too, who hurry me away 
“ So cruelly, one moment stay — 

“ O ! stay — one moment is not much — 

“ He yet may come — for hi7n I pray — 

“ Hafed ! dear Hafed ! — ” all the way 
In wild lamentings, that would touch 
A heart of stone, she shrieked his name 
To the dark woods — no Hafed came : — 

No — hapless pair — you’ve looked your last : — 
Your hearts should both have broken then : 
The dream is o’er — your doom is cast — 
You’ll never meet on earth again ! 

Alas for him, who hears her cries ! 

Still half-way down the steep he stands. 
Watching with fixed and feverish eyes 
The glimmer of those burning brands. 

That down the rocks, with mournful ray. 
Light all he loves on earth away ! 

Hopeless as they who, far at sea. 

By the cold moon have just consigned 
The corse of one, loved tenderly. 

To the bleak flood they leave behind ; 

And on the deck still lingering stay. 

And long look back, with sad delay. 


The Fire- Worshippers. 


305 


To watch the moonlight on the wave. 

That ripples o’er that cheerless grave. 

But see — he starts — what heard he then } 

That dreadful shout ! — across the glen 
From the land-side it comes, and loud 
Rings through the chasm ; as if the crowd 
Of fearful things, that haunt that dell. 

Its Gholes and Dives and shapes of hell. 

Had all in one dread howl broke out. 

So loud, so terrible that shout ! 

“ They come — the Moslems come !” — he cries, 
His proud soul mounting to his eyes, — 

“ Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam 
“ Enfranchised through yon starry dome, 

“ Rejoice — for souls of kindred fire 
" Are on the wing to join your choir !” 

He said — and, light as bridegrooms bound 
To their young loves, reclimbed the steep 
And gained the Shrine — his Chiefs stood round — 
Their swords, as with instinctive leap. 
Together, at that cry accurs’d. 

Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst. 
And hark ! — again — again it rings ; 

Near and more near its echoings 

Peal through the chasm — O ! who that then 

Had seen those listening warrior-men. 

With their swords grasped, their eyes of flame 
Turned on their Chief — could doubt the shame, 
The’ indignant shame with which they thrill 
To hear those shouts and yet stand still } 


3o6 


Lalla Rookh. 


He read their thoughts — they were his own — 

“ What ! while our arms can wield these blades, 
“ Shall we die tamely ? die alone ? 

“ Without one victim to our shades, 

“ One Moslem heart, where, buried deep, 

“ The sabre from its toil may sleep ? 

“ No — God of Iran’s burning skies ! 

“ Thou scorn’st the’ inglorious sacrifice. 

“ No — though of all earth’s hope bereft, 

“ Life, swords, and vengeance still are left. 

“ We’ll make yon valley’s reeking caves 
“ Live in the awe-struck minds of men, 

“ Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves 
“ Tell of the Gheber’s bloody glen, 

“ Follow, brave hearts ! — this pile remains 
“ Our refuge still from life and chains ; 

“ But his the best, the holiest bed, 

“ Who sinks entombed in Moslem dead !” 

Down the precipitous rocks they sprung. 

While vigor, more than human, strung 
Each arm and heart. — The’ exulting foe 
Still through the dark defiles below. 

Tracked by his torches’ lurid fire. 

Wound slow, as through Golconda’s vale* 
The mighty serpent, in his ire. 

Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. 

No torch the Ghebers need — so well 
They know each mystery of the dell. 

So oft have, in their wanderings. 


* See Hoole upon the Storj' of Sindbad. 


T he Fire -JV orshippers. 


307 


Crossed the wild race that round them dwell. 

The very tigers from their delves 
Look out, and let them pass, as things 
Untamed and fearless like themselves ! 



There was a deep ravine, that lay 
Yet darkling in the Moslem’s way ; 
Fit spot to make 
invaders rue 
The many 
fallen be- 
fore the 
few. 

The torrents 
from that 
morning ’s 
sky 


“ They come—a falchion greets each brow.” 


Had filled the narrow chasm breast-high. 
And, on each side, aloft and wild. 

Huge cliffs and toppling crags were piled,— 
The guards with which young Freedom lines 
The pathways to her mountain-shrines. 

Here, at this pass, the scanty band 
Of Iran’s last avengers stand ; 


3o8 


Lalla Rookh. 


Here wait, in silence like the dead. 

And listen for the Moslem’s tread 
So anxiously, the carrion-bird 
Above them flaps his wing unheard ! 

They come — that plunge into the water 
Gives signal for the work of slaughter. 

Now, Ghebers, now — if e’er your blades 
Had point or prowess, prove them now — 
Woe to the flle that foremost wades ! 

They come — a falchion greets each brow. 
And, as they tumble, trunk on trunk. 

Beneath the gory waters sunk. 

Still o’er their drowning bodies press 
New victims quick and numberless ; 

Till scarce an arm in Hafed’s band, 

So fierce their toil, hath power to stir. 

But listless from each crimson hand 

The sword hangs, clogged with massacre. 
Never was horde of tyrants met 
With bloodier welcome — never yet 
To patriot vengeance hath the sword 
More terrible libations poured ! 

All up the dreary, long ravine. 

By the red, murky glimmer seen 
Of half-quenched brands, that o’er the flood 
Lie scattered round and burn in blood. 

What ruin glares ! what carnage swims ! 
Heads, blazing turbans, quivering limbs. 

Lost swords that, dropped from many a hand, 
In that thick pool of slaughter stand ; — 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


309 


Wretches who wading, half on fire 

From the tossed brands that round them fly, 
’Twixt flood and flame in shrieks expire ; — 

And some who, grasped by those that die. 
Sink woundless with them, smothered o’er 
In their dead brethren’s gushing gore ! 

But vainly hundreds, thousands bleed. 

Still hundreds, thousands more succeed ; 
Countless as towards some flame at night 
The North’s dark insects wing their flight, 

And quench or perish in its light. 

To this terrific spot they pour — 

Till, bridged with Moslem bodies o’er, 

It bears aloft their slipper)’- tread. 

And o’er the dying and the dead, — 

Tremendous causeway ! — on they pass. 

Then, hapless Ghebers, then, alas ! 

What hope was left for you ? for you. 

Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice 
Is smoking in their vengeful eyes ; — 

Whose swords how keen, how fierce they knew, 
And burn with shame to find how few. 

Crushed down by that vast multitude. 

Some found their graves where first they stood ; 
While some with hardier struggle died. 

And still fought on by Hafed’s side. 

Who, fronting to the foe, trod back 
Towards the high towers his gory track ; 

And, as a lion swept away 
By sudden swell of Jordan’s pride 


310 


Lalla Rookh. 


From the wild covert where he lay,* 

Long battles with the’ o’erwhelming tide. 

So fought he back with fierce delay. 

And kept both foes and fate at bay. 

But whither now ? their track is lost. 

Their prey escaped — guide, torches gone — 

By torrent-beds and labyrinths crossed. 

The scattered crowd rush blindly on — 

“ Curse on those tardy lights that wind,” 

They panting cry, “ so far behind ; . 

“ O for a bloodhound’s precious scent, 

“To track the way the Gheber went !” 

Vain wish — confusedly along 

They rush, more desperate as more wrong : 

Till, wildered by the far-off lights. 

Yet glittering up those gloomy heights. 

Their footing, mazed and lost, they miss. 

And down the darkling precipice 
Are dashed into the deep abyss ; 

Or midway hang, impaled on rocks, 

A banquet, yet alive, for flocks 
Of ravening vultures, — while the dell 
Reechoes with each horrible yell. 

Those sounds — the last, to vengeance dear. 

That e’er shall ring in Hafed’s ear, — 

* “ In this thicket, upon the banks of the Jordan, several sorts 
of wild beasts are wont to harbor themselves, whose being washed 
out of the covert by the overflowings of the river, gave occasion to 
that allusion of Jeremiah, he shall come up like a lion from the 
swelling of Jordani" — Maundrell's Aleppo. 


The Fire - Worshippers. 


311 


Now reached him, as aloft, alone. 

Upon the steep way breathless 
thrown. 

He lay beside his reeking blade. 

Resigned, as if life’s task were 
o’er. 

Its last blood-offering amply 
paid. 

And Iran’s self could claim 
no more. 

One only thought, one lingering 
beam 

Now broke across his dizzy 
dream 

Of pain and weariness — ’twas 
she. 

His heart’s pure planet, shin- 
ing yet 

Above the waste of memory’, 

When all life’s other lights were set. 

And never to his mind before 

Her image such enchantment wore. 

It seemed as if each thought that stained. 
Each fear that chilled their loves was past. 

And not one cloud of earth remained 
Between him and her radiance cast ; — 

As if to charms, before so bright. 

New grace from other worlds was given, 

And his soul saw her by the light 

Now breaking o’er itself from Heaven ! 



“ A BANQUET, VET 
ALIVE, FOR FLOCKS OF 
RAVENING VULTURES.” 


312 


Lalla Rookh. 


A voice spoke near him — ’twas the tone 

Of a loved friend, the only one 

Of all his warriors, left with life 

From that short night’s tremendous strife. — 

“ And must we then, my chief, die here } 

“ Foes round us, and the Shrine so near!” 
These words have roused the last remains 
Of life within him — “ What 1 not yet 
“ Beyond the reach of Moslem chains !” 

The thought could make e’en Death forget 
His icy bondage — with a bound 
He springs, all bleeding, from the ground. 

And grasps his comrade’s arm, now grown 
Ev’n feebler, heavier than his own. 

And up the painful pathway leads. 

Death gaining on each step he treads. 

Speed them, thou God, who heard’st their vow ! 
They mount — they bleed — O, save them now — 
The crags are red they’ve clambered o’er. 

The rock-weed’s dripping with their gore ; — 
Thy blade too, Hafed, false at length. 

Now breaks beneath thy tottering strength ! 
Haste, haste — the voices of the Foe 
Come near and nearer from below — 

One effort more — thank Heaven ! ’tis past. 
They’ve gained the topmost steep at last. 

And now they touch the temple’s walls, 

Now Hafed sees the Fire divine — 

When, lo ! — his weak, worn comrade falls 
Dead on the threshold of the Shrine. 

“ Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled ! 





4 

f 



% ¥ 









Lalla Rookh. 


3M 


" And must I leave thee withering here, 
“ The sport of every ruffian’s tread, 

“ The mark for every coward’s spear ? 

“ No, by yon altar’s sacred beams !” 

He cries, and, with a strength that seems 
Not of this world, uplifts the frame 
Of the fallen Chief, and towards the flame 
Bears him along ; — with death-damp hand 
The corpse upon the pyre he lays. 

Then lights the consecrated brand. 

And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze 
Like lightning bursts o’er Oman’s Sea. — 

“ Now, Freedom’s God ! I come to thee,” 
The youth exclaims, and with a smile 
Of triumph vaulting on the pile. 

In that last effort, ere the fires 

Have harmed one glorious limb, expires ! 

What shriek was that on Oman’s tide ? 

It came from yonder drifting bark. 

That just hath caught upon her side 
The death-light — and again is dark. 

It'is the boat — ah, why delayed "} — 

That bears the wretched Moslem maid ; 
Confided to the watchful care 

Of a small veteran band, with whom 
Their generous Chieftain would not share 
The secret of his final doom. 

But hoped when Hinda, safe and free, 

. Was rendered to her father’s eyes. 

Their pardon, full and prompt, would be 


The Fire - Worshippers. 


315 


The ransom of so dear a prize. — 
Unconscious, thus, of Hafed’s fate. 

And proud to guard their beauteous freight. 
Scarce had they cleared the surfy waves 
That foam around those frightful caves. 

When the curs’d war-whoops, known so well. 
Came echoing from the distant dell — 

Sudden each oar, upheld and still. 

Hung dripping o’er the vessel’s side. 

And, driving at the current’s will. 

They rocked along the whispering tide ; 
While every eye, in mute dismay. 

Was toward that fatal mountain turned, * 
Where the dim altar’s quivering ray 
As yet all lone and tranquil burned. 

O ! ’tis not, Hinda, in the power 
Of Fancy’s most terrific touch 
To paint thy pangs in that dread hour — 

Thy silent agony — ’twas such 
As those who feel could paint too well. 

But none e’er felt and lived to tell ! 

’Twas not alone the dreary state 
Of a lorn spirit, crushed by fate. 

When, though no more remains to dread. 

The panic chill will not depart ; — 

When, though the inmate Hope be dead. 

Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart ; 
No — pleasures, hopes, affections gone. 

The wretch may bear, and yet live on. 

Like things, within the cold rock found 


3i6 


Lalla Rookh. 


Alive, when all’s congealed around. 

But there’s a blank repose in this, 

A calm stagnation, that were bliss 
To the keen, burning, harrowing pain. 

Now felt through all thy breast and brain ; — 
That spasm of terror, mute, intense. 

That breathless, agonized suspense. 

From whose hot throb, whose deadly aching. 
The heart hath no relief but breaking ! 

Calm is the wave — Heaven’s brilliant lights 
Reflected dance beneath the prow ; — 

Time was when, on such lovely nights. 

She who is there, so desolate now. 

Could sit all cheerful, though alone. 

And ask no happier joy than seeing 
That star-light o’er the waters thrown — 

No joy but that, to make her bless’d. 

And the fresh, buoyant sense of Being, 
Which bounds in youth’s yet careless breast, — 
Itself a star, not borrowing light. 

But in its own glad essence bright. 

How different now ! — but, hark, again 
The yell of havoc rings — brave men ! 

In vain, with beating hearts, ye stand 
On the bark’s edge — in vain each hand 
Half draws the falchion from its sheath ; 

All’s o’er — in rust your blades may lie : — 
He, at whose word they’ve scattered death, 
Ev’n now, this night, himself must die ! 

Well may ye look to yon dim tow^r. 


The Fire- Worshippers. 


317 


And ask, and wondering guess what means 
The battle-cry at this dead hour — 

Ah ! she could tell you — she, who leans 
Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast. 

With brow against the dew-cold mast ; — 

Too well she knows — her more than life. 
Her soul’s first idol and its last. 

Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. 

But see — what moves upon the height } 

Some signal ! — ’tis a torch’s light. 

What bodes its solitary glare 
In gasping silence toward the Shrine 
All eyes are turned — thine. Hind A, thine 
Fix their last, fading life-beams there. 

’Twas but a moment — fierce and high 
The death-pile blazed into the sky. 

And far away, o’er rock and flood 
Its melancholy radiance sent ; 

While Hafed, like a vision, stood 
Revealed before the burning pyre. 

Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire 
Shrined in its own grand element ! 

“ ’Tis he !” — the shuddering maid exclaims, — 
But, while she speaks, he’s seen no more ; 
High burst in air the funeral flames. 

And Iran’s hopes and hers are o’er! 

One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave ; 

Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, 
Where still she fixed her dying gaze, 

And, gazing, sunk into the wave, — 


Lalla Rookh. 


318 


Deep, deep, — where never care or pain 
Shall reach her innocent heart again ! 


Farewell — farewell to thee, Araby’s daughter! 

(Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea,) 

No pearl ever lay, under Oman’s green water. 

More pure in its shell than thy Spirit in thee. 

O ! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing. 

How light was thy heart till Love’s witchery 
came. 

Like the wind of the south* o’er a summer lute 
blowing. 

And hushed all its music, and withered its frame ! 

But long, upon Araby’s green, sunny highlands. 
Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom 
Of her, who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands, 
With nought but the sea-starf to light up her 
tomb. 

And still, when the merry date-season is burning, J 

* “ This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes, that 
they can never be tuned while it lasts.” — Stephen's Persia. 

t “ One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian Gulf is 
a fish which the English call Star-fish. It is circular, and at night 
very luminous, resembling the full moon surrounded by rays.” — 
Mirza Abu Taleb. 

X For a description of the merriment of the date-time, of their 
work, their dances, and their return home from the palm-groves at 
the end of autumn with the fruits, see Kempfer^ Amoenitat. 
Exot. 


The Fire-Worshippers. 


319 



“ Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow 
Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep.” 


And calls to the palm-groves the young and the 
old, 

The happiest there, from their pastime returning 
At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. 

The young village-maid, when with flowers she 
dresses ' 

Her dark, flowing hair for some festival day. 

Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses. 

She mournfully turns from the mirror away. 

Nor shall Iran, beloved of her Hero ! forget thee — 
Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start ; 
Close, close by the side of that Hero she’ll set thee, 
Embalmed in the innermost shrine of her heart. 


320 


Lalla Rookh. 


Farewell — be it ours to embellish thy pillow 

With ever)' thing beauteous that grows in the deep ; 
Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow 
Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. 

Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber 
That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept ;* 
With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreathed cham- 
ber 

We, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight have slept. 

We’ll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling, 
And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head ; 

We’ll seek where the sands of the Caspian! are spark- 
ling, 

And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. 

Farewell — farewell — until Pity’s sweet fountain 
Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave. 
They’ll weep for the Chieftain who died on that 
mountain. 

They’ll weep for the Maiden who sleeps in this 
wave. 


* Some naturalists have imagined that amber is a concretion of 
the tears of birds. — See Trevoux^ Chambers. 

t “ The bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden 
Bay, the sand whereof shines as fire.” — Struy. 


/ 


Lalla Rookh. 321 


The singular placidity with which Fadladeen 
had listened, during the latter part of this obnoxious 
story, surprised the Princess and Feramorz exceed- 
ingly ; and even inclined towards him the hearts of 
these unsuspicious young persons, who little knew 
the source of a complacency so marvellous. The 
truth was, he had been organizing, for the last few 
days, a most notable plan of persecution against the 
Poet, in consequence of some passages that had fallen 
from him on the second evening of recital, — which 
appeared to this worthy Chamberlain to contain lan- 
guage and principles, for which nothing short of the 
summary criticism of the Chabuk* would be advisa- 
ble. It was his intention, therefore, immediately on 
their arrival at Cashmere, to give information to the 
King of Buchariaof the very dangerous sentiments of 
his minstrel ; and if, unfortunately, that monarch did 
not act with suitable vigor on the occasion, (that is, 
if he did not give the Chabuk to Feramorz, and a 
place to Fadladeen,) there would be an end, he 
feared, of all legitimate government in Bucharia. He 
could not help, however, auguring better both for 
himself and the cause of potentates in general ; and it 
was the pleasure arising from these mingled anticipa- 
tions that diffused such unusual satisfaction through 
his features, and made his eyes shine out, like poppies 


* “ The application of whips or rods.” — Dubois. 


322 


Lalla Rookh, 


of the desert, over the wide and lifeless wilderness of 
that countenance. 

Having decided upon the Poet’s chastisement in 
this manner, he thought it but humanity to spare him 
the minor tortures of criticism. Accordingly, when 
they assembled the following evening in the pavilion, 
and Lalla Rookh was expecting to see all the beau- 
ties of her bard melt away, one by one, in the acidity 
of criticism, like pearls in the cup of the Egyptian 
queen, — he agreeably disappointed her by merely 
saying, with an ironical smile, that the merits of such 
a poem deserved to be tried at a much higher tri- 
bunal ; and then suddenly passed off into a panegyric 
upon all Mussulman sovereigns, more particularly 
his august and Imperial master, Aurungzebe,— the 
wisest and best of the descendants of Timur, — who, 
among other great things he had done for mankind, 
had given to him, Fadladeen, the very profitable 
posts of Betel-carrier, and Taster of Sherbets to the 
Emperor, Chief Holder of the Girdle of Beautiful 
Forms,* and Grand Nazir, or Chamberlain of the 
Haram. 

They were now not far from that Forbidden 

* Kempfer mentions such an officer among the attendants of the 
King of Persia, and calls him “formse corporis estimator.” His 
business was, at stated periods, to measure the ladies of the Haram 
by a sort of regulation-girdle, whose limits it was not thought 
graceful to exceed. If any of them outgrew this standard of shape, 
they were reduced by abstinence till they came within proper 
bounds, 


Lalla Rookh. 


323 


River,* beyond which no pure Hindoo can pass ; and 
were reposing for a time in the rich valley of Hussun 
Abdaul, which had always been a favorite resting- 
place of the Emperors in their annual migrations to 
Cashmere. Here often had the Light of the Faith, 
Jehanguire, been known to wander with his beloved 
and beautiful Nourmahal ; and here would Lalla 
Rookh have been happy to remain forever, giving 
up the throne of Bucharia and the world, for Fera- 
MORZ and love in this sweet, lonely valley. But the 
time was now fast approaching when she must see 
him no longer, — or, what was still worse, behold 
him with eyes whose every look belonged to another ; 
and there was a melancholy preciousness in these 
last moments, which made her heart cling to them 
as it would to life. During the latter part of the 
journey, indeed, she had sunk into a deep sadness, 
from which nothing but the presence of the young 
minstrel could awake her. Like those lamps in 
tombs, wRich only light up when the air is admitted, 
it was only at his approach that her eyes became 
smiling and animated. But here, in this dear valley, 
ever)' moment appeared an age of pleasure ; she saw 
him all day, and was, therefore, all day happy, — re- 
sembling, she often thought, that people of Zinge,t 


* The Attock; 

“ Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon the Nilab,. 
which he called Attock, which means, in the Indian language, 
Forbidden ; for, by the superstition of the Hindoo®, it was held 
unlawful to cross that river.”— Hindostan. 

t ‘‘ The inhabitants of this country (ZInge) are never afflicted 


324 


Lalla Rookh. 


who attribute the unfading- cheerfulness they enjoy 
to one genial star that rises nightly over their heads.* 

The whole party, indeed, seemed in their liveliest 
mood during the few days they passed in this de- 
lightful solitude. The young attendants of the Prin- 
cess, who were here allowed a much freer range 
than they could safely be indulged with in a less 
sequestered place, ran wild among the gardens, and 
bounded through the meadows, lightly as young 
roes over the aromatic plains of Tibet; while Fad- 
LADEEN, in addition to the spiritual comfort de- 
rived by him from a pilgrimage to the tomb of the 
Saint from whom the valley is named, had also 
opportunities of indulging, in a small way, his taste 
for victims, by putting to death some hundreds of 
those unfortunate little lizards,! which all pious 
Mussulmans make it a point to kill, — taking for 
granted, that the manner in which the creature 


with sadness or melancholy ; on this subject the Sheikh Abu-al- 
Kheir-Azhari has the following distich : — 

“ ‘ Who is the man without care or sorrow, (tell) that 1 may rub 
my hand to him. 

“ ‘ (Behold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow, frolicsome with 
tipsiness and mirth.’ 

“ The philosophers have discovered that the cause of this cheer- 
fulness proceeds from the influence of the star Soheil or Canopus, 
which rises over them every night.”— Extract from a Geographical 
Persian Manuscript called Heft Aklim, or the Seven Climates, 
translated by W. Ovseley^ Esq^ 

* The star Soheil, or Canopus. 

t “ The lizard Stellio. The Arabs call it Hardun. The Turks 
kill it, for they imagine that by declining the head it mimics them 
when they .say their —Hasselquist, 


Lalla Rookh, 


325 


hangs its head is meant as a mimicry of the attitude 
in which the Faithful say their prayers. 

About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were those 
Royal Gardens,* which had grown beautiful under 
the care of so many lovely eyes, and were beautiful 
still, though those eyes could see them no longer. 
This place, with its flowers and its holy silence, in- 
terrupted only by the dipping of the wings of birds 
in its marble basins filled with the pure water of 
those hills, was to Lalla Rookh "all that her heart 
could fancy of fragrance, coolness, and almost heav- 
enly tranquillity. As the Prophet said of Damascus, 
“ It was too delicious f — and here, in listening to 
the sweet voice of Feramorz, or reading in his eyes 
what yet he never dared to tell her, the most ex- 
quisite moments of her whole life were passed. One 
evening, when they had been talking of the Sultana 
Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram,J who had so 

* For these particulars respecting Hussun Abdaul I am indebted 
to the very interesting Introduction of Mr. Elphinstone’s work 
upon Caubul. 

t “ As you enter at that Bazar, without the gate of Damascus, 
you see the Green Mosque, so called because it hath a steeple 
faced with green glazed bricks, which render it very resplendent ; 
it is covered at top with a pavilion of the same stuff. The Turks 
say this mosque was made in that place, because Mahomet, being 
come so far, would not enter the town, saying it was too delicious.” 
— Thevenot. This reminds one of the following pretty passage 
in Isaac Walton : — “ When I sat last on this primrose bank, and 
looked down these meadows, I thought of them as Charles the 
Emperor did of the city of Florence, ‘ that they were too pleasant 
to be looked on, but only on holidays.’ ” 

^ Nourmahal signifies Light of the Haram. She was afterwards 
called Nourjehan, or the Light of the World. 


326 


Lalla Rookh. 


often wandered among these flowers, and fed with 
her own hands, in those marble basins, the small, 
shining Ashes of which she was so fond,* — the 
youth, in order to delay the moment of separation, 
proposed to recite a short story, or rather rhapsody, 
of which this adored Sultana was the heroine. It 
related, he said, to the reconcilement of a sort of 
lovers’ quarrel which took place between her and 
the Emperor during a Feast of Roses at Cashmere ; 
and would remind the Princess of that difference 
between Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair mistress 
Marida,t which was so happily made up by the soft 
strains of the musician, Moussali. As the story was 
chiefly to be told in song, and Feramorz had un- 
luckily forgotten his own lute in the valley, he bor- 
rowed the vina of Lalla- Rookh’s little Persian 
slave, and thus began : — 

* “ The Empress of Jehan-Guire used to divert herself with 
feeding tame fish in her canals, some of which were many years 
afterwards known by fillets of gold, which she caused to be put 
round them.” — Harris. 

t ‘‘ Haroun A1 Raschid, cinquieme Khalife des Abassides, 
s’etant un jour brouille avec une de ses maitresses nomm^e Mari- 
dah, qu’il aimoit cependant jusqu'a I’exces, et cette mesintelli- 
gence ayant dejk dur6e quelque terns commen«ja i s’ennuyer. 
Giafar Barmaki, son favori, qui s’en appercut, commanda a Abbas 
ben Ahnaf, excellent poete de ce terns la, de composer quelques 
vers sur le sujet de cette brouillerie. Ce poete ex6cuta I’ordre de 
Giafar, qui fit chanter ces vers par Moussali en presence du Kha- 
life, et ce prince fut tellement touche de la tendresse des vers du 
poete et de la douceur de la voix du musicien qu’il alia aussi-tdt 
trouver Maridah, et fit sa paix avec elle.” — D'Herbelot, 


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THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 


Who has not heard of the vale of Cashmere, 
With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave,* 
Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear 
As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their 
wave ? 

O ! to see it at sunset, — when warm o'er the Lake 
Its splendor at parting a summer eve throws. 

Like a bride, full of blushes, when lingering to take 
A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes ! — 
When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming 
half shown, 

And each hallows the hour by some rites of its 
own. 

Here' the music of prayer from a minaret swells. 
Here the Magian his urn, full of perfume, is 
swinging, 

And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells 

Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is 
ringing.! 

* “ The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy of 
odor, has long been proverbial in the East.” — Forster. 

t‘‘Tied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded with 
ravishing melody.” — Song of Jayadeva. 


330 


Lalla Rookh. 



“ Or to see it by moonlight. 


Or to see it by moonlight, — when mellowly shines 
The light o’er its palaces, gardens, and shrines ; 
When the waterfalls gleam, like a quick fall of 
stars. 

And the nightingale’s hymn from the Isle of Chenars 
Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet 
From the cool shining walks where the young peo- 
ple meet. — 

Or at morn, when the magic of daylight awakes 
A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks. 
Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth ever)' one 
Out of darkness, as if but just born of the Sun. 
When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day. 
From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away; 


The Light of the Haram. 


331 


And the wind, full of wantonness, wooes like a lover 
The young aspen-trees,* * * § till they tremble all over. 
When the East is as warm as the light of first 
hopes. 

And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurled. 
Shines in through the mountainous portalf that 
opes. 

Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world ! 

But never yet, by night or day, 

In dew of spring or summer’s ray, 

Did the sweet Valley shine so gay 
As now it shines — all love and light. 

Visions by day and feasts by night ! 

A happier smile illumes each brow. 

With quicker spread each heart uncloses, 
'And all is ecstasy, — for now 

The Valley holds its Feast of Roses 
The joyous time, when pleasures pour 
Profusely round, and, in their shower. 

Hearts open, like the Season’s Rose, — 

The Floweret of a hundred leaves,§ 
Expanding while the dew-fall flows. 

And every leaf its balm receives. 


* “ The little isles in the Lake of Cachemire are set with arbors 
and large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall.” — Bernier. 

t “ The Tuckt Suliman, the name bestowed by the Mahometans 
on this hill, forms one side of a grand portal to the lake.” — Forster, 

X ” The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their re- 
maining in bloom.” — See Pietro de la Valle. 

§ ” Gul sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe a par- 
ticular species.” — Ouseley. 


332 


Lalla Rookh, > 



“When the hour of evening came upon the Lake.” 

’Twas when the hour of evening came 
Upon the Lake, serene and cool, 

When Day had hid his sultry flame 
Behind the palms of Baramoule,* 

When maids began to lift their heads. 
Refreshed, from their embroidered beds, 

Where they had slept the sun away, 

And waked to moonlight and to play. 

All were abroad — the busiest hive 
On BELA’st hills is less alive. 

When saffron-beds are full in flower. 

Than looked the Valley in that hour. 

A thousand restless torches played 
Through every grove and island shade ; 

* Bernier, 

t A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or Memoirs of 
Jehangiiire, where there Is an account of the beds of saffron-flowers 
about Cashmere. 



The Light of the ILaram. 333 


And there were glancing eyes about, 

And cheeks, that would not dare shine out 
In open day, but thought they might 
Look lovely then, because ’twas night. 

And all were free, and wandering. 

And all exclaimed to all they met, 

That never did the summer bring 
So gay a Feast of Roses yet 


A thousand sparkling lamps were set 
On every dome and minaret ; 

And fields and pathways, far and near. 
Were lighted by a blaze so clear. 

That you could see, in wandering round. 
The smallest rose-leaf on the ground. 
Yet did the maids and matrons leave 
Their veils at home, that brilliant eve; 


That never did the summer bring so gay a Feast of Roses yet.” 


334 


Lalla Rookh 



And what a wilderness of 
flowers ! 

It seemed as though from all 
the bowers 

The beat of tabors.*’ And fairest fields of all the 

year, 

The mingled spoil were scattered here. 

The Lake, too, like a garden breathes. 

With the rich buds that o'er it lie, — 

As if a shower of faii^' wreaths 
• Had fallen upon it from the sky ! 

And then the sounds of joy, — the beat 
Of tabors and of dancing feet ; — 

The minaret-crier’s chant of glee 
Sung from his lighted gallery,* 

And answered by a ziraleet 

From neighboring Haram, wild and sweet ; — 


The moon had never shed a 
light 

So clear as that which 
bless’d them there ; 

The roses ne’er shone half so 
bright. 

Nor they themselves looked 
half so fair. 


* “ It is the custom among the women to employ the Maazeen to 
chant from the gallery of the nearest minaret, which on that occa- 
sion is illuminated, and the women assembled at the house respond 
at intervals with a ziraleet or joyous chorus.” — Russel, 


The Light of the Haram. 


335 


The merry laughter, echoing 

From gardens, where the silken swing* 

Wafts some delighted girl above 
The top leaves of the orange-grove; 

Or, from those infant groups at play 
Among the tentsf that line the way, ' 

Flinging, unawed by slave or mother. 

Handfuls of roses at each other. — 

Then, the sounds from the Lake, — the low whisper- 
ing in boats. 

As they shoot through the moonlight ; — the dip- 
ping of oars. 

And the wild, airy warbling that every where floats. 

Through the groves, round the islands, as if all 
the shores. 

Like those of Kathay, uttered music, and gave 
An answer in song to the kiss of each wave.J 

* “ The swing is a favorite pastime in the East, as promoting a 
circulation of air, extremely refreshing in those sultry climates,” — 
Richardson. 

“ The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime is accom- 
panied with music of voices and of instruments, hired by the mas- 
ters of the swings.” — Thevenot, 

+ “ At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an infinite 
number of tents pitched, with such a crowd of men, women, boys, 
and girls, with music, dances,” &c. &c. — Herbert, 

X “ An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the ancients 
having remarked that a current of water made some of the stones 
near its banks send forth a sound, they detached some of them, 
and being charmed with the delightful sound they emitted, con- 
structed King or musical instruments of them.” — Grosier. 

This miraculous quality has been attributed also to the shore of 
Attica. “ Hujus littus, ait Capella, concentum musicum illisis terrse 
undisreddere, quod propter tantam eruditionis vim puto dictum,” — 
Ludov. Vives in Augustin de Civitat, Dei, lib. xviii. c. 8. 


336 


Lalla Rookh. 


But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full of feel- 
ing, ' 

That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing, — 
Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching power 
Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. 

O ! best of delights, as it every where is. 

To be near the loved One , — what a rapture is his 
Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide 
O’er the Lake of Cashmere, with that Ofie by his 
side ! 

If woman can make the worst wilderness dear. 
Think, think what a Heaven she must make of 
Cashmere ! 

So felt the magnificent Son of Acbar,* 

When from power and pomp and the trophies of war 

He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all 

With the Light of the Haram, his young NOUR- 

MAHAL. 

When free and uncrowned as the Conqueror roved 
By the banks of that Lake, with his only beloved. 
He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch 
F rom the hedges, a glory his crown could not match. 
And preferred in his heart the least ringlet that curled 
Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world. 

There’s a beauty, forever unchangingly bright. 

Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer-day’s light, 
Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, 
Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendor. 

* Jehanguire was the son of the Great Acbar, 


The Light of the Haram. 


337 


This was not the beauty — O, nothing like this. 

That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of 
bliss ! 

But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays 
Like the light upon autumn’s soft, shadowy days. 



‘His young Nourmahal.” 


Now here and now there, giving w'armth as it flies 
F rom the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes ; 
Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams. 
Like the glimpses a saint hath of Heaven in his 
dreams. 

When pensive, it seemed as if that very grace. 

That charm of all others, was born with her face ! 


33 ^ 


Lalla Rookh. 


And when angry, — for ev’n in the tranquilest climes 
Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes, — 
The short, passing anger but seemed to awaken 
New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when 
shaken. 

If tenderness touched her, the dark of her eye 
At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye. 

From the depth of whose shadow, like holy revealings 
F rom innermost shrines,came the light of her feelings. 
Then her mirth — O ! ’twas sportive as ever took wing 
From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in 
spring ; 

Illumed by a wit that would fascinate sages, 

Yet playful as Peris just loosed from their cages.* 
While her laugh, full of life, without any control 
But the sweet one of gracefulness,rung from her soul ; 
And where it most sparkled no glance could discover. 
In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brightened all over, — 
Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon. 

When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun. 
Such, such were the peerless enchantments, that gave 
Nourmahal the proud Lord of the East for her 
slave : 

And though bright was his Haram, — a living parterre 
Of the flowerst of this planet — though treasures were 
there, 

* In the wars of the Dives with the Peris, whenever the former 
took the latter prisoners, “ they shut them up in iron cages, and 
hung them on the highest trees. Here they were visited by their 
companions, who brought them the choicest odors.” — Richardson. 

t In the Malay language the same word signifies women and 
flowers. 


The Light of the Haram, 


339 


For which SOLlMAN’s self might have giv'en all the 
store 

That the navy from OPHIR e’er winged to his shore, 
Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all, 

And the Light of his Haram was young Nourma- 
HAL ! 

But where is she now, this night of joy. 

When bliss is every heart’s employ ? — 

When all around her is so bright, 

So like the visions of a trance. 

That one might think, who came by chance 
Into the vale this happy night. 

He saw that City of Delight* 

In Fairy-land, whose streets and towers 
Are made of gems and light and flowers ! 
Where is the loved Sultana ? where. 

When mirth brings out the young and fair. 
Does she, the fairest, hide her brow, 

In melancholy stillness now ? 

Alas ! — ;how light a cause may move 
Dissension between hearts that love ! 

Hearts that the world in vain had tried. 

And sorrow but more closely tied ; 

That stood the storm, when waves were rough, 
Yet in a sunny hour fall off. 

Like ships that have gone down at sea. 

When Heaven was all tranquillity ! 


* The capital of Shadukiam. See note, p. 198. 


340 


Lalla RookK . . 


A something, light as air — a look, 

A word unkind or wrongly taken — 

O ! love, that tempests never shook, 

A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. 
And ruder words will soon rush in 
To spread the breach that words begin ; 
And eyes forget the gentle ray 
They wore in courtship’s smiling day ; 
And voices lose the tone that shed 
A tenderness round all they said ; 

Till fast declining, one by one. 

The sweetnesses of love are gone. 

And hearts, so lately mingled, seem 
Like broken clouds, — or like the stream. 
That smiling left the mountain’s brow. 

As though its waters ne’er could sever, 
Yet, ere it reach the plain below. 

Breaks into floods, that part forever. 


O, you that have the charge of Love, 

Keep him in rosy bondage bound, 

As in the Fields of Bliss above 

He sits, with flowerets fettered round ;* — 
Loose not a tie that round him clings. 

Nor ever let him use his wings ; 

For ev’n an hour, a minute’s flight 
Will rob the plumes of half their light, 

* See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned closely 
round with wreaths of flowers, in Picart's Ceremonies Reli- 
gieuses. 


The Light of the Haram, 


341 


Like that celestial bird, — 
whose nest 

Is found beneath far East- 
ern skies, — 

Whose wings, though radiant 
when at rest. 

Lose all their glory when he 
flies !* 

Some difference, of this dan- 
gerous kind, — 

By which, though light, the links that bind 
The fondest hearts may soon be riven ; 

Some shadow in Love’s summer Heaven, 

Which, though a fleecy speck at first, 

May yet in awful thunder burst ; — 

Such cloud it is, that now hangs over 
The heart of the Imperial Lover, 

And far hath banished from his sight 
His Nourmahal, his Haram’s Light ! 

Hence is it, on this happy night. 

When Pleasure through the fields and groves 
Has let loose all her world of loves. 

And every heart has found its own. 

He wanders, joyless and alone. 

And weary' as that bird of Thrace, 

Whose pinion knows no resting-place.f 

* “ Among the birds of Tonquin Is a species of goldfinch, which 
sings so melodiously that It is called the Celestial Bird. Its 
wings, when It Is perched, appear variegated with beautiful colors,' 
but when It flies they lose all their splendor.” — Grosier. 

t ‘‘As these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to rest, 
they are called by the French ‘ les ames damnees.’” — Dalloway. 



342 


Lalla Rookh. 


In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes 
This Eden of the Earth supplies 

Come crowding round — the cheeks are pale. 
The eyes are dim ’.—though rich the spot 
With ever)’ flower this earth has got. 

What is it to the nightingale. 

If there his darling rose is not ?* 

In vain the Valley’s smiling throng 
Worship him, as he moves along ; 

He heeds them not — one smile of hers 
Is worth a world of worshippers. 

They but the Star’s adorers are. 

She is the Heaven that lights the Star ! 

Hence is it, too, that Nourmahal, 

Amid the luxuries of this hour. 

Far from the joyous festival. 

Sits in her own sequestered bower. 

With no one near, to soothe or aid, 

But that inspired and wondrous maid, 
Namouna, the Enchantress ; — one. 

O’er whom his race the golden sun 
For unremembered years has run. 

Yet never saw her blooming brow 
Younger or fairer than ’tis now. 

Nay, rather, — as the west wind’s sigh 
Freshens the flower it passes by, — 


* “You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and 
flowers before the nightingale, yet he wishes not, in his constant 
heart, for more that the sweet breath of his beloved rose.”— 


The Ligjit of the JIarani. 


343 


Time’s wing but seemed, 
in stealing o’er, 

T o leave her lovelier than 
before. 

Yet on her smiles a sad- 
ness hung, 

And when, as oft, she 
spoke or sung 
Of other worlds, there 
came a light 
From her dark eyes so 
strangely bright. 
That all believed nor 
man nor earth 
Were conscious of Na- 
MOUNa’s birth ! 

All spells and talismans 
she knew. 

From the great Man- 



He heeds them not.’ 


tra,* which around 
The Air’s sublimer Spirits drew, 

To the gold gemsf of Afric, bound 
Upon the wandering Arab’s arm. 

To keep him from the Siltim’sJ harm. 


* “ He is said to have found the great spell or talisman, 

through which he ruled over the elements and spirits of all de- 
nominations.” — Wilford. 

t “ The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the Arabs El 
Herrez, from the supposed charm they contain.”— 

J ‘‘ A demon, supposed to haunt woods, &c., in a human shape. 
— Richardson. 


344 


Lalla Rookh. 



And she had pledged her 
powerful art, — 


Pledged it with all the zeal 
and heart 


Of one who knew, though 
high her sphere. 


What ’twas to lose a love so 
dear, — 


To find some spell that should 
recall 


Her Selim’s* smile to Nourma- 


HAL ! 


' The LATTICE, WREATH- , . . 

ED WITH WOODBINE.” Twas midnight — through the lattice. 


wreathed 


With woodbine, many a perfume breathed 
From plants that wake when others sleep 
From timid jasmine buds, that keep 
Their odor to themselves all day. 

But, when the sun-light dies away. 

Let the delicious secret out 
To every breeze that roams about ; — 

When thus Namouna ; — “ ’Tis the hour 
“ That scatters spells on herb and flower, 

“ And garlands might be gathered now, 

“ That, twined around the sleeper’s brow, 

“ Would make him dream of such delights, 

“ Such miracles and dazzling sights, 

“ As Genii of the Sun behold, 

“ At evening, from their tents of gold, 

* The name of Jehanguire before his accession to the throne. 


The Light of the Haram. 


345 



“Upon the’ horizon 
— where t h e y 
play 

“ Till twilight comes, 
and, ray by 
ray, 

“Their sunny man- 
sions melt away. 

“ Now, too, a chaplet 
might be 
wreathed 

“ Of buds o’er which 
the moon has 
breathed, 

“ Which worn by 
her, whose love 
has strayed, 

“Might bring 
some Peri from 
the skies, 

“ Some sprite, whose very soul is made 
“ Of flowerets’ breaths and lovers’ sighs, 

“ And who might tell ” 


For me, for me !” 


“ For me, for me,’’ 

Cried NOURMAHAL impatiently, — . 

“ O ! twine that wreath for me to-night.’’ 

Then, rapidly, with foot as light 
As the young musk-roe’s, out she flew. 

To cull each shining leaf that grew 
Beneath the moonlight’s hallowing beams. 

For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams. 


346 


Lalla Rookh'. 


Anemones and Seas of Gold,* 

And new-blown lilies of the river, 

And those sweet flowerets, that unfold 
Their buds on Camadeva’s quiver ;t — 

The tube-rose, with her silvery light. 

That in the Gardens of Malay 
Is called the Mistress of the Night,];- 
So like a bride, scented and bright. 

She comes out when the sun’s away ; — 
Amaranths, such as crown the maids 
That wander through Zamara’s shades ;§ — 

And the white moon-flower, as it shows. 

On Serendib’s high crags, to those 
Who near the isle at evening sail. 

Scenting her clove-trees in the gale ; 

In short, all flowerets and all plants, 

From the divine Amrita tree,|| 

That blesses Heaven’s inhabitants 
With fruits of immortality, 

* “ Hemasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the bright- 
est gold color .” — Sir W. Jones. 

t “ This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delightful on 
earth, and the delicious odor of its blossoms justly gives them a 
place in the quiver of Camadeva, or the God of Love.” — Id. 

$ “ The Malayans style the tube-rose (Polianthes tuberosa) 
Sandal Malam, or the Mistress of the Night.” — Pennant. 

§ The people of the Batta country in Sumatra, (of which Zamara 
is one of the ancient names,) ” when not engaged in war, lead an 
idle, inactive life, passing the day in playing on a kind of flute, 
crowned with garlands of flowers, among which the globe-amaran- 
thus, a native of the country, mostly prevails.” — Marsden. 

B ” The largest and richest sort (of the Jambu or rose-apple) is 
called Amrita, or immortal, and the mythologists of Tibet apply 
the same word to a celestial tree, bearing ambrosial fruit ,” — Sir 
IV. Jones. 


The Light of the Haram. 


347 


Down to the basil tuft,"*" that waves 
Its fragrant blossom over graves, 

And to the humble rosemary, 

Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed 
To scent the desertf and the dead — 

All in that garden bloom, and all 
Are gathered by young Nourmahal, 

Who heaps her baskets with the flowers 
And leaves, till they can hold no more ; 
Then to Namouna flies, and showers 
Upon her lap the shining store. 

With what delight the’ Enchantress views 
So many buds, bathed with the dews 
And beams of that bless’d hour ! — her glance 
Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures. 
As, in a kind of holy trance. 

She hung above those fragrant treasures. 
Bending to drink their balmy airs. 

As if she mixed her soul with theirs. 

And ’twas, indeed, the perfume shed 
From flowers and scented flame, that fed 
Her charmed life — for none had e’er 
Beheld her taste of mortal fare. 


* Sweet basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally found in 
churchyards. 

“ The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the week, 
to pray and weep at the sepulchres of the dead ; and the cus- 
tom then is to throw upon the tombs a sort of herb, which 
the Arabs call rihany and which is our sweet basil.” — Maillet^ 
Lett. lo. 

t ‘ In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender and 
rosemary.” — Asiat, Res. 


348 


Lalla Rookh. 



Heaps her baskets with the flowers.” 


Nor ever in aught earthly dip, 

But the morn’s dew, her roseate lip. 
Filled with the cool, inspiring smell. 
The’ Enchantress now begins her spell, 
Thus singing as she winds and weaves 
In mystic form the glittering leaves : — 


I know where the winged visions dwell 
That around the night-bed play ; 


The Light of the Haram. 


349 


I know each herb and floweret’s bell, 

Where they hide their wings by day. 

Then hasten we, maid. 

To twine our braid ; 

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The image of love, that nightly flies 
To visit the bashful maid. 

Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs 
Its soul, like her, in the shade. 

The dream of a future, happier hour. 

That alights on misery’s brow. 

Springs out of the silvery almond-flower. 
That blooms on a leafless bough.* 

Then hasten we, maid. 

To twine our braid ; 

T o-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The visions, that oft to worldly eyes 
The glitter of mines unfold. 

Inhabit the mountain-herb,t that dyes 
The tooth of the fawn like gold. 


*“ The almond-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the bare 
branches.” — Hasselquist. 

t “ An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communicate a 
yellow, golden hue to the teeth of the goats and other animals that 
graze upon it. ' 

Niebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the Eastern alchy- 
mists look to as a means of making gold. “ Most of those al- 
chymical enthusiasts think themselves sure of success, if they 
could but find out the herb, which gilds the teeth and gives a yel- 
low color to the flesh of the sheep that eat it. Even the oil of this 
plant must be of a golden color. It is called Haschischat ed dab." 

Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth of the 


350 


Lalla Rookh. 


The phantom shapes — O touch not them — 
That appall the murderer’s sight. 

Lurk in the fleshly mandrake’s stem, 

That shrieks, when plucked at night ! 

Then hasten we, maid. 

To twine our braid ; 

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The dream of the injured, patient mind. 

That smiles at the wrongs of men. 

Is found in the bruised and wounded rind 
Of the cinnamon, sweetest then. 

Then hasten we, maid. 

To twine our braid ; 

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 


No sooner was the flowery crown 
Placed on her head, than sleep came down, 
Gently as nights of summer fall. 

Upon the lids of Nourmahal ; — 

And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze. 

As full of small, rich harmonies 
As ever wind, that o’er the tents 
Of Azab* blew, was full of scents. 


goats at Mount Libanus are of a silver color; and adds, “this 
confirms me that which I observed in Candia ; to wit, that the 
animals that live on Mount Ida eat a certain herb, which renders 
their teeth of a golden color ; which, according to my judgment, 
cannot otherwise proceed than from the mines which are under 
ground.” — Dandini, Voyage to Mount Libanus. 

* The myrrh country. 


The Light of the Hara77i, 


351 


Steals on her ear, and floats and swells, 

Like the first air of morning creeping 
Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells, 

Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping ;* 
And now a Spirit formed, ’twould seem. 

Of music and of light, — so fair. 

So brilliantly his features beam. 

And such a sound is in the air 
Of sweetness when he waves his wings, — 
Hovers around her, and thus sings : — 


From CHiNDARA’st warbling fount I come. 
Called by that moonlight garland’s spell ; 
From Chindara’s fount, my fairy home. 
Where in music, morn and night, I dwell. 
Where lutes in the air are heard about. 

And voices are singing the whole day long. 
And every sigh the heart breathes out 
Is turned, as it leaves the lips, to song ! 
Hither I come 
From my fairy home. 

And if there’s a magic in Music’s strain, 

I swear by the breath 
Of that moonlight wreath. 

Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 


* “ This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the 
Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as 
living in shells on the shores of the Red Sea.” — Wilford. 

t‘‘ A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to be con- 
stantly playing.” — Richardson. 



“And now a Spirit formed, ’twould seem, 
Of music and of light/’ 



The Light of the Haratn. 


353 ■ 


P'or mine is the lay that lightly floats, 

And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, 

That fall as soft as snow on the sea, 

And melt in the heart as instantly : — 

And the passionate strain that, deeply going 
Refines the bosom it trembles through. 

As the musk-wind, over the water blowing. 
Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too. 

Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway 
The Spirits of past Delight obey ; — 

Let but the tuneful talisman sound. 

And they come, like Genii, hovering round. 

And mine is the gentle song that bears, 

F rom soul to soul, the wishes of love. 

As a bird, that wafts through genial airs 
The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove.* 

'Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure 
The past, the present, and future of pleasure ;t 

* “ The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the 
fruit of the cinnamon to different places, is a great disseminator of 
this valuable tree.” — See Brown's Illustr. Tab. ig. 

t “ Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of sounds, it 
is a perception of a complicated nature, made up of a sensation of 
the present sound or note, and an idea or remembrance of the 
foregoing, while their mixture and concurrence produce such a 
mysterious delight, as neither could have produced alone. And it 
is often heightened by an anticipation of the succeeding notes. 
Thus Sense, Memory, and Imagination, are conjunctively em- 
ployed.” — Gerrard on Taste. 

This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as explained 
by Cicero — ” Quocirca corpus gaudere tamdiu, dum praesentem 
sentiret voluptatem : animum el praesentem percipere pariter cum 


354 


Lalla Rookh. 


When Memory links the tone that is gone 
With the blissful tone that’s still in the ear, 

And Hope from a heavenly note flies on 
To a note more heavenly still that is near. 

The warrior’s heart, when touched by me. 

Can as downy soft and as yielding be 
As his own white plume, that high amid death 
Through the field has shone — yet moves with a 
breath 

And, O, how the eyes of Beauty glisten. 

When Music has reached her inward soul. 

Like the silent stars, that wink and listen 
While Heaven’s eternal melodies roll ! 

So, hither I come 
From my fairy home. 

And if there’s a magic in Music’s strain, 

I swear by the breath 
Of that moonlight wreath. 

Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 


’Tis dawn — at least that earlier dawn. 

Whose glimpses are again withdrawn,* 

corpora et prospicere venientem, nec praeteritam praeterfluere si- 
nere.” 

Madame de Stael accounts upon the same principle for the grat- 
ification we derive from rhyme : — “ Elle est I’image de I’esperance 
et du souvenir. Un son nous fait desirer celui qui doit lui repon- 
dre, et quand le second retentit il nous rappelle celui qui vient de 
nous echapper.” 

* “ The Persians have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim and the 


The Light of the Hara7n. 


355 ■ 


As if the mom had waked, and then 
Shut close her lids of light again. 

And Nourmahal is up, and trying 

The wonders of her lute, whose strings — 

O bliss ! — now mumiur like the sighing 
From that ambrosial Spirit’s wings. 

And then, her voice — ’tis more than human — 
Never, till now, had it been given 
To lips of any mortal woman 

To utter notes so fresh from Heaven ; 

Sweet as the breath of angel sighs. 

When angel sighs are most divine. — 

“ O ! let it last till night,” she cries, 

“ And he is more than ever mine.” 

And hourly she renews the lay, 

So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness 
Should, ere the evening, fade away, — 

For things so heavenly have such fleetness! 
But, far from fading, it but grows 
Richer, diviner as it flows : 


Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real daybreak. They account for 
this phenomenon in a most whimsical manner. They say that as 
the sun rises from behind the Kohi Qaf, (Mount Caucasus,) it 
passes a hole perforated through that mountain, and that darting 
its rays through it, it is the cause of the Soobhi Kazim, or this 
temporary appearance of daybreak. As it ascends, the earth is 
again veiled in darkness, until the sun rises above the mountain, 
and brings with it the Soobhi Sadig, or real morning .” — Scott 
Waring. He thinks Milton may allude to this, when he says, — 

“ Ere the blabbing Eastern scout. 

The nice morn on the Indian steep 
From her cabined loop-hole peep.” 


356 


Lalla Rookh. 


Till rapt she dwells on every string, 

And pours again each sound along. 

Like Echo, lost and languishing. 

In love with her own wondrous song. 

That evening, (trusting that his soul 
Might be from haunting love released 
By mirth, by music, and the bowl,) 

The’ Imperial Selim held a feast 
In his magnificent Shalimar ;* — 

In whose Saloons, when the first star 
Of evening o’er the waters trembled. 

The Valley’s loveliest all assembled ; 

All the bright creatures that, like dreams. 
Glide through its foliage, and drink beams 


* “ In the centre of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, one of 
the Delhi Emperors, I believe Shah Jehan, constructed a spacious 
garden called the Shalimar, which is abundantly stored with fruit- 
trees and flowering shrubs. Some of the rivulets which intersect 
the plain are led into a canal at the back of the garden, and flowing 
through its centre, or occasionally thrown into a variety of water- 
works, compose the chief beauty of the Shalimar. To decorate 
this spot the Mogul Princes of India have displa3'ed an equal mag- 
nificence and taste ; especially Jehan Gheer, who, with the en- 
chanting Noor Mahl, made Kashmire his usual residence during 
the summer months. On arches thrown over the canal are erected, 
at equal distances, four or five suites of apartments, each consist- 
ing of a saloon, with four rooms at the angles, where the followers 
of the court attend, and the servants prepare sherbets, coffee, and 
the hookah. The frame of the doors of the principal saloon is 
composed of pieces of a stone of a black color, streaked with yellow 
lines, and of a closer grain and higher polish than porphyry. 
They were taken, it is said, from a Hindoo temple, by one of the 
Mogul princes, and are esteemed of great value.” — Forster. 


The Light of the Harant. 


357 


Of beauty from its founts and streams ;* * * § 

And all those wandering minstrel-maids, 

Who leave — how can they leave? — the shades 
Of that dear Valley, and are found 
Singing in gardens of the Southf 
Those songs, that ne’er so sweetly sound 
As from a young Cashmerian’s mouth. 

There, too, the Haram’s inmates smile ; — ■ 
Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair, 
And from the Garden of the Nile, 

Delicate as the roses there — 

Daughters of Love from Cyprus’ rocks. 

With Paphian diamonds in their locks ;§ — 
Light Peri forms, such as there are 
On the gold meads of Candahar ;|| 


* “ The waters of Cachemir are the more renowned from its be- 
ing supposed that the Cachemirians are indebted for their beauty 
to them .” — AH Yezdi. 

+ ” From him I received the following little Gazzel, or Love 
Song, the notes of which he committed to paper from the voice of 
one of those singing girls of Cashmere, who wander from that de- 
lightful valley over the various parts of India.” — Persian Miscel- 
lanies. 

X ” The roses of the Jinan Nile, or Garden of the Nile (attach- 
ed to the Emperor of Marocco’s palace), are unequalled, and mat- 
tresses are made of their leaves for the men of rank to recline 
Jackson. 

§ ” On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cavern 
which produces the most beautiful rock-crystal. On account of 
its brilliancy it has been called the Paphian diamond.” — Mariti. 

II “ There is a part of Candahar, called Peria, or Fairy Land.” — 
Thevenot. In some of those countries to the north of India, 
vegetable gold is supposed to be produced. 



^ Daughteks of Love.” 







The Light of the Haram. . 359 


And they, before whose sleepy eyes, 

In their own bright Kathaian bowers. 

Sparkle such rainbow butterflies. 

That they might fancy the rich flowers. 

That round them in the sun lay sighing. 

Had been by magic all set flying.* 

Every thing young, every thing fair 
From East and West is blushing there. 

Except — except — O, Nourmahal ! 

Thou loveliest, dearest of them all, • 

The one, whose smile shone out alone, 

Amidst a world the only one ; 

Whose light, among so many lights, 

Was like that star, on starry nights. 

The seaman singles from the sky. 

To steer his bark forever by ! 

Thou wert not there — so Selim thought. 

And every thing seemed drear without thee ; 
But, ah ! thou wert, thou wert, — and brought 
Thy charm of song all fresh about thee. 
Mingling unnoticed with a band 
Of lutanists from many a land. 

And veiled by such a mask as shades 
The features of young Arab maids, t — 

* “ These are the butterflies which are called in the Chinese 
language Flying Leaves. Some of them have such shining colors, 
and are so variegated, that they may be called flying flowers ; and 
indeed they are always produced in the finest flower-gardens.” — 
Dutin. 

t “ The Arabian women wear black masks with little clasps 
prettily ordered.” — Carreri. Niebuhr mentions their showing 
but one eye in conversation. 


360 


Lalla Rookh. 



The board was spread with fruits 
and wine ; 

With grapes of gold, like those 
“ Waited, trembling, for that shine 

THE MINUTE.” Casbin’s hills* * * § — pouiegran- 

ates full 

Of melting sweetness, and the pears. 

And sunniest apples,t that Caubul, 

In all its thousand gardens,^ bears ; — 
Plantains, the golden and the green, 

Malaya’s nectared mangusteen ;§ 


A mask that leaves but one eye 
free. 

To do its best in witcher}’, — 

She roved, with beating heart, 
around. 

And waited, trembling, for 
the minute. 

When she might try if still the 
sound 

Of her loved lute had magic 
in it. 


* ” The golden grapes of Casbin.” — Description of Persia. 

t “ The fruits exported from Caubul are apples, pears, pome- 
granate.*,” &c. — Elphinstone. 

$ “ We sat down under a tree, listened to the birds, and talked 
with the son of our Mehmaundar about our country and Cau'bul, 
of which he gave an enchanting account ; that city and its 100,- 
000 gardens,” &c. — Id, 

§ “ The mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the world ; the 
pride of the Malay islands.” — Marsden. 


The Light of the Haram. 


361 


Prunes of BOKARA, and sweet nuts 
From the far groves of Samarcand, 

And Basra dates, and apricots, 

Seed of the Sun,* * * § from Iran’s land ; — 
With rich conserve of Visna cherries,! 

Of orange flowers, and of those berries 
That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles 
Feed on in Erac’s rocky dells.l 
All these in richest vases smile. 

In baskets of pure santal-wood. 

And urns of porcelain from that isle,§ 

Sunk underneath the Indian flood. 
Whence oft the lucky diver brings 
Vases to grace the halls of kings. 

Wines, too, of every clime and hue. 

Around their liquid lustre threw ; — 

Amber Rosolli,|| — the bright dew 
From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing, IT 
And Shiraz wine, that richly ran 
As if that jewel, large and rare. 

The ruby for which Kublai-Khan 


* “ A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians tokm ek 
shems, signifying sun’s seed.” — Description of Persia. 

t Sweetmeats, in a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves in con- 
serve, with lemon of Visna cherry, orange flowers,” &c. — Russell. 

X “ Antelopes cropping the fresh berries of Erac.” — The Moal- 
lakat, Poem of Tarafa. 

§ ” Mauri-ga-Sima, an island near Formosa, supposed to have 
been sunk in the sea for the crimes of its inhabitants. The vessels 
which the fishermen and divers bring up from it are sold at an im- 
mense price in China and Japan.” — See Ke7nf>/er. 

11 Persian Tales. 1 The white wine of Kishma. 


362 


Lalla Rookh. 



Offered a city’s wealth,* was blushing- 
Melted within the goblets there ! 


And amply Selim quaffs of each, 

And seems resolved the flood shall reach 
His inward heart, — shedding around 
A genial deluge, as they run, 

That soon shall leave no spot undrowned. 

For Love to rest his wings upon. 

He little knew how well the boy 
Can float upon a goblet’s streams, 

* “ The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest ruby that 
was ever seen. Kiiblai-Khan sent and offered the value of a city 
for it, but the King answered he would not give it for the treasure 
of the world .” — Marco Polo. 


The Light of the Haram. 


363 


Lighting them with his smile of joy ; — 

As bards have seen him in their dreams, 
Down the blue GANGES laughing glide 
Upon a rosy lotus wreath,* 

Catching new lustre from the tide 
That with his image shone beneath. 

But what are cups, without the aid 
Of song to speed them as they flow } 

And see — a lovely Georgian maid, 

• With all the bloom, the freshened glow 
Of her own country maidens’ looks. 

When warm they rise from Teflis’ brooks,! — 
And with an eye, whose restless ray. 

Full, floating, dark — O, he, who knows 
His heart is weak, of Heaven should pray 
To guard him from such eyes as those ! — 
With a voluptuous wildness flings 
Her snowy hand across the strings 
Of a syrinda,! and thus sings : — 


Come hither, come hither ; by night and by day. 
We linger in pleasures that never are gone ; 
Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away. 
Another as sweet and as shining comes on. 


♦ The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating down 
the Ganges on the Nj'mphsea Nelumbo.— See Pen7iant. 

t Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths. — See Ebn Hau- 
kal. 

X “ The Indian Syrinda, or guitar.” — Sytnez. 


3^4 


Lalla Rookh. 


And the love that is o’er, in expiring, gives birth 
To a new one as warm, as unequalled in bliss ; 
And, O ! if there be an Elysium on earth. 

It is this, it is this.* 

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh 
As the flower of the Amra just op’d by a bee ;t 
And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,J 
Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. 

O ! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth 
When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss. 
And own, if there be an Elysium on earth. 

It is this, it is this. 

Here sparkles the nectar, that, hallowed by love. 
Could draw down those angels of old from their 
sphere. 

Who for wine of this earth§ left the fountains above. 
And forgot Heaven’s stars for the eyes we have here. 
And, blessed with the odor our goblet gives forth. 
What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss ? 
For, O ! if there be an Elysium on earth. 

It is this, it is this. 

* “ Around the exterior of the Dewan Khafs (a building of 
Shah Allum’s) in the cornice are the following lines, in letters of 
gold upon a ground of white marble — I J" there be a paradise 
7ipon earth, it is this, it is this' ” — Franklin, 

t “ Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the mountain- 
tops, while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous toil.” — 
Song of Jayadeva. 

The Nisan, or drops of spring rain, which they believe to 
produce pearls if they fall into shells.” — Richardson. 

§ For an account of the share which wine had in the fall of the 
angels, see Mariti. 


The Light of the Hara7n, 


365 


The Georgian’s song was scarcely mute, 

When the same measure, sound for sound. 
Was caught up by another lute. 

And so divinely breathed around. 

That all stood hushed and wondering. 

And turned and looked into the air. 

As if they thought to see the wing 
Of ISRAFIL,* the Angel, there ; — 

So powerfully on every soul 
That new, enchanted measure stole. 

While now a voice, sweet as the note 
Of the charmed lute, was heard to float 
Along its chords, and so entwine 

Its sounds with theirs, that none knew whether 
The voice or lute was most divine. 

So wondrously they went together : — 


There’s a bliss beyond albthat the minstrel has told 
When two, that are linked in one heavenly tie. 
With heart never changing, and brow never cold, 
Love on through all ills, and love on till they die. 
One hour of a passion so sacred is worth 

Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss , 

. And, O ! if there be an Elysium on earth. 

It is this, it is this. 


’Twas not the air, ’tw'as not the words. 
But that deep magic in the chords 


* The Angel of Music. See note, p. 303. 


366 


Lalla Rookh. 


And in the lips, that gave such power 
As Music knew not till that hour. 

At once a hundred voices said, 

“ It is the masked Arabian maid !” 

While Selim, who had felt the strain 
Deepest of any, and had lain 
Some minutes rapt, as in a trance. 

After the fairy sounds were o’er. 

Too inly touched for utterance. 

Now motioned with his hand for more : — 


Fly to the desert, fly with me : 

Our Arab tents are rude for thee ; 

But, O ! the choice what heart can doubt. 
Of tents with love, or thrones without } 

Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
The’ acacia waves he*r yellow hair. 

Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less 
For flowering in a wilderness. 

Our sands are bare, but down their slope 
The silvery-footed antelope 
As gracefully and gayly springs 
As o’er the marble courts of kings. 

Then come — thy Arab maid will be 
The loved and lone acacia-tree. 

The antelope, whose feet shall bless 
With their light sound thy loneliness. 


The Light of the Haram. 


367 


O ! there are looks and tones that dart 
An instant sunshine through the heart, — 

As if the soul that minute caught 

Some treasure it through life had sought ; — 

As if the very lips and eyes. 

Predestined to have all our sighs. 

And never be forgot again, 

Sparkled and spoke before us then ! 

So came thy every glance and tone. 

When first on me they breathed and shone 
New, as if brought from other spheres, 

Yet welcome as if loved for years. 

Then fly with me, — if thou hast known 
No other flame, nor falsely thrown 
A gem away, that thou hadst sworn 
Should ever in thy heart be worn. 

Come, if the love thou hast for me 
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — 

Fresh as the fountain under ground, 

WTen first ’tis by the lapwing found.* 

But if for me thou dost forsake 
Some other maid, and rudely break 
Her worshipped image from its base. 

To give to me the ruined place ; — 

* The Hudhud, or Lapwing, is supposed to have the power of 
discovering water under ground. 


368 


Lalla RooIzJl 


Then, fare thee well — I’d rather make 
My bower upon some icy lake 
When thawing suns begin to shine, 
Than trust to love so false as thine ! 


There was a pathos in this lay. 

That, ev’n without enchantment’s art, 
Would instantly have found its way 
Deep into Selim’s burning heart ; 

But, breathing, as it did, a tone 
To earthly lutes and lips unknown ; 

With every chord fresh from the touch 
Of Music’s Spirit, — ’twas too much ! 

Starting, he dashed away the cup, — 

Which, all the time of this sweet air. 

His hand had held, untasted, up. 

As if ’twere fixed by magic there, — 

And, naming her, so long unnamed. 

So long unseen, wildly exclaimed, 

“O Nourmahal! O Nourmahal! 

“ Hadst thou but sung this witching strain 
“ I could forget — forgive thee all, 

“ And never leave those eyes again.” 

The mask is off — the charm is wrought — • 
And Selim to his heart has caught. 

In blushes more than ever bright. 

His Nourmahal, his Haram’s Light ! 

And well do vanished frowns enhance 
The charm of every brightened glance ; 


The Light of the Haram. 


369 


And dearer seems each dawning smile 
F or having lost its light awhile : 

And, happier now for all her sighs. 

As on his arm her head reposes. 

She whispers him, with laughing eyes, 

“ Remember, love, the Feast of Roses !” 


370 


Lalla Rookh. 


Fadladeen, at the conclusion of this light rhap- 
sody, took occasion to sum up his opinion of the 
young Cashmerian’s poetry, — of which, he trusted, 
they had that evening heard the last. Having re- 
capitulated the epithets “ frivolous” — “ inharmoni- 
ous” — “nonsensical,” he proceeded to say that, 
viewing it in the most favorable light, it resembled 
one of those Maldivian boats, to which the Princess 
had alluded in the relation of her dream,* — a slight, 
gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or ballast, 
and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded flow- 
ers on board. The profusion, indeed, of flowers and 
birds, which this Poet had ready on all occasions, — 
not to mention dews, gems, &c., — was a most op- 
pressive kind of opulence to his hearers ; and had 
the unlucky effect of giving to his style all the glitter 
of the flower-garden without its method, and all the 
flutter of the aviary without its song. In addition to 
this, he chose his subjects badly, and was always 
most inspired by the worst parts of them. The 
charms of paganism, the merits of rebellion,— these 
W'ere the themes honored with his particular enthu- 
siasm ; and, in the poem just recited, one of his 
most palatable passages W'as in praise of that bever- 
age of the Unfaithful, wine ; — “ being, perhaps,” 
said he, relaxing into a smile, as conscious of his own 
character in the Haram on this point, “ one of those 


* See p. 265. 


Lalla Rookh. 


371 


bards, whose fancy owes all its illumination to the 
grape, like that painted porcelain,* so curious and so 
rare, whose images are only visible when liquor is 
poured into it.” Upon the whole, .it was his opinion, 
from the specimens v/hich they had heard, and 
which, he begged to say, were the most tiresome 
part of the journey, that — whatever other merits this 
well-dressed young gentleman might possess — 
poetry was by no means his proper avocation : “ and 
indeed,” concluded the critic, “ from his fondness for 
flowers and for birds, I would venture to suggest 
that a florist or a bird-catcher is a much more suit- 
able calling for him than a poet.” 

They had now begun to ascend those barren 
mountains which separate Cashmere from the rest 
of India ; and, as the heats were intolerable, 
and the time of their encampments limited to the 
few hours necessary for refreshment and repose, 
there was an end to all their delightful evenings, and 
Lalla Rookh saw no more of Feramorz. She 
now felt that her short dream of happiness was over, 
and that she had nothing but the recollection of its 
few blissful hours, like the one draught of sweet 
water that serves the camel across the wilderness, to 

* “ The Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the sides 
of porcelain vessels fish and other animals, which weie only per- 
ceptible when the vessel was full of some liquor. They call this 
.species Kia-tsin, that is azure is put in press, on account of the 
manner in which the azure is laid on.” — “ They are every nowand 
then trying to recover the art of this magical painting, but to no 
purpose.” — Dunn. 


372 


Lalla Rookh. 


be her heart’s refreshment during the dreary waste 
of life that was before her. The blight that had 
fallen upon her spirits soon found its way to her 
cheek, and her ladies saw with regret — though not 
without some suspicion of the cause — that the 
beauty of their mistress, of which they were almost 
as proud as of their own, was fast vanishing away 
at the very moment of all when she had most need 
of it. What must the King of Bucharia feel, when, 
instead of the lively and beautiful Lalla Rookh, 
whom the poets of Delhi had described as more 
perfect than the divinest images in the house of 
Azor,* he should receive a pale and inanimate 
victim, upon whose cheek neither health nor pleasure 
bloomed, and from whose eyes Loye had fled, — to 
hide himself in her heart } 

If any thing could have charmed away the mel- 
ancholy of her spirits, it would have been the fresh 
airs and enchanting scenery of that Valley, which 
the Persians so justly called the Unequalled.f But 
neither the coolness of its atmosphere, so luxurious 
after toiling up those bare and burning mountains, 

■ — neither the splendor of the minarets and pagodas, 
that shone out from the depth of its woods, nor the 
grottos, hermitages, and miraculous fountains,]; 

* An eminent carver of idols, said in the Koran to be father to 
Abraham. “ I have such a lovely idol as is not to be met with in 
the house of Azor.” — Hajiz. 

t Kachmire be Nazeer. — Forster. 

X ” The pardonable superstition of the sequestered inhabitants 
has multiplied the places of worship of Mahadeo, of Beschan, and 


Lalla Rookh. 


373 


which make ever}^ spot of that region holy ground, 
— neither the countless waterfalls, that rush into 
the Valley from all those high and romantic moun- 
tains that encircle it, nor the fair city on the Lake, 
whose houses, roofed with flowers,* appeared at a 
distance like one vast and variegated parterre ; — 
not all these wonders and glories of the most lovely 
country under the sun could steal her heart for a 
minute from those sad thoughts, which but darken- 
ed and grew bitterer every' step she advanced. 

The gay pomps and processions that met her up- 
on her entrance into the Valley, and the magnifi- 
cence with which the roads all along were decorat- 
ed, did honor to the taste and gallantry of the young 

of Brama. All Cashmere is holy land, and miraculous fountains 
abound .” — Major RennePs Memoirs of a Map of Hindostan. 

Jehanguire mentions “ a fountain in Cashmere called Tirnagh, 
which signifies a snake ; probably because some large snake had 
formerly been seen there.” — “ During the lifetime of my father, 
I went twice to this fountain, which is about twenty coss from 
the city of Cashmere. The vestiges of places of worship and 
sanctity are to be traced without number amongst the ruins and 
the caves, which are interspersed in its neighborhood .” — Toozek 
Jehangery. — v. Asiat. Misc. vol. ii. 

There is another account of Cashmere by Abul-Fazil, the author 
of the Ayin-Acbaree, “who,” says Major Rennel^ “appears to 
have caught some of the enthusiasm of the valley, by his- descrip- 
tion of the holy places in it.” 

* “ On a standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fine earth, 
which shelters the building from the great quantity of snow that 
falls in the winter season. This fence communicates an equal 
warmth in winter, as a refreshing coolness in the summer season, 
when the tops of the houses, which are planted with a variety of 
flowers, e.xhibit at a distance the spacious view of a beautifully 
checkered parterre.” — Forster. 


374 . 


Lalla Rookh. 


King. It was night when they approached the city, 
and, for the last two miles, they had passed under 
arches, thrown from hedge to hedge, festooned with 
only those rarest roses from which the Attar Gul, 
more precious than gold, is distilled, and illuminat- 
ed in rich and fanciful forms with lanterns of the 
triple-colored tortoise-shell of Pegu.* Sometimes, 
from a dark wood by the side of the road, a display 
of fire- works would break out, so sudden and so 
brilliant, that a Brahmin might fancy he beheld that 
grove, in whose purple shade the God of Battles 
was born, bursting into a flame at the moment of 
his birth ; — while, at other times, a quick and play- 
ful irradiation continued to brighten all the fields and 
gardens by which they passed, forming a line of 
dancing lights along the horizon ; like the meteors 
of the north as they are seen by those hunters,! who 
pursue the white and blue foxes on the confines of 
the Icy Sea. 

These arches and fire-works delighted the Ladies 
of the Princess exceedingly ; and, with their usual 
good logic, they deduced from his taste for illumi- 
nations, that the King of Bucharia would make the 
most exemplar}^ husband imaginable. Nor, indeed, 
could Lalla Rookh herself help feeling the kind- 

* “ Two hundred slaves there are, who have no other office than 
to hunt the woods and marshes for triple-colored tortoises for the 
King's Vivary. Of the shells of these also lanterns are made.” — 
Vincent le Blanc's Travels. 

+ For a description of the Aurora Borealis as it appears to these 
hunters, v. Encyclopaedia. 


Lalla Rookh. 


375 


ness and splendor with which the young bridegroom 
welcomed her ; — but she also felt how painful is the 
gratitude, which kindness from those we cannot love 
excites ; and that their best blandishments come 
over the heart with all that chilling and deadly 
sweetness, which we can fancy in the cold, odorifer- 
ous wind* that is to blow over this earth in the last 
days. 

The marriage was fixed for the morning after her 
arrival, when she was, for the first time, to be pre- 
sented to the monarch in that Imperial Palace be- 
yond the lake, called the Shalimar. Though never 
before had a night of more wakeful and anxious 
thought been passed in the Happy Valley, yet, when 
she rose in the morning, and her Ladies came around 
her, to assist in the adjustment of the bridal orna- 
ments, they thought they had never seen her look 
half so beautiful. What she had lost of the bloom 
and radiancy of her charms was more than made up 
by that intellectual expression, that soul beaming 
forth from the eyes, which is worth all the rest of 
loveliness. ‘ When they had tinged her fingers with 
the Henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a small 
coronet of jewels, of the shape worn by the ancient 
Queens of Bucharia, they flung over her head the 

* This wind, which is to blow from Syria Damascena, is, ac- 
cording to the Mahometans, one of the signs of the Last Day’s 
approach. 

Another of the signs is, “ Great distress in the world, so that a 
man when he passes by another’s grave shall say, Would to God 
I were in his place !” — Sale's Preliminary Discourse. 


376 


Lalla Rookh. 


rose-colored bridal veil, and she proceeded to the 
barge that was to convey her across the lake ; — 
first kissing, with a mournful look, the little amulet 
of cornelian, which her father at parting had hung 
about her neck. 

The morning was as fresh and fair as the maid 
on whose nuptials it rose, and the shining lake, 
all covered with boats, the minstrels playing upon 
the shores of the islands, and the crowded sum- 
mer-houses on the green hills around, with shawls 
and banners waving from their roofs, presented 
such a picture of animated rejoicing, as only 
she, who was the object of it all, did not feel with 
transport. To Lalla Rookh alone it was a mel- 
ancholy pageant ; nor could she have even borne 
to look upon the scene, were it not for a hope that, 
among the crowds around, she might once more 
perhaps catch a glimpse of Fekamorz. So much 
was her imagination haunted by this thought, that 
there was scarcely an islet or boat she passed on 
the way, at which her heart did not flutter with the 
momentary fancy that he was there. Happy, in 
her eyes, the humblest slave upon whom the light 
of his dear looks fell ! — In the barge immediately 
after the Princess sat Fadladeen, with his silken 
curtains thrown widely apart, that all might have 
the benefit of his august presence, and with his head 
full of the speech he was to deliver to the King, 
“concerning Feramorz, and literature, and the 
Chabuk, as connected th^ewith.” 


Lalla Rookh. 


377 


They now had entered the canal which leads from 
the Lake to the splendid domes and saloons of the 
Shalimar, and went gliding on through the gardens 
that ascended from each bank, full of flowering 
shrubs that made the air all perfume ; while from 
the middle of the canal rose jets of water*, smooth 
and unbroken, to such a dazzling height, that they 
stood like tall pillars of diamond in the sunshine. 
After sailing under the arches of various saloons, 
they at length arrived at the last and most magnifi- 
cent, where the monarch awaited the coming of his 
bride ; and such was the agitation of her heart and 
frame, that it was with difficulty she could walk up 
the marble steps, which were covered with cloth of 
gold for her ascent from the barge. At the end of 
the hall stood two thrones, as precious as the Ceru- 
lean Throne of Coolburga,* on one of which sat 
Aliris, the youthful King of Bucharia, and on the 

* “ On Mahommed Shaw’s return to Koolburga, (the capital of 
Dekkan,) he made a great festival, and mounted this throne with 
much pomp and magnificence, calling it Firozeh or Cerulean. I 
have heard some old persons, who saw the throne Firozeh in the 
reign of Sultan Mamood Bhamenee, describe it. They say that 
it was in length nine feet, and three in breadth ; made of ebony, 
covered with plates of pure gold, and set with precious stones of 
immense value. Every prince of the house of Bhamenee, who 
possessed this throne, made a point of adding to it some rich 
stones ; so that when, in the reign of Sultan Mamood, it was 
taken to pieces, to remove some of the jewels to be set in vases 
and cups, the jewellers valued it atone corore of oons, (nearly 
four millions sterling.) I learned also that it was called Firozeh 
from being partly enamelled of a sky-blue color, which was in 
time totally concealed by the number of jewels.” — Ferishta. 


378 


Lalla Rookh. 


other was, in a few minutes, to be placed the most 
beautiful Princess in the world. Immediately upon 
the entrance of Lalla Rookh into the saloon, the 
monarch descended from his throne to meet her ; 
but scarcely had he time to take her hand in his, 
when she screamed with surprise, and fainted at his 
feet. It was Feramorz himself that stood before 
her ! — F eramorz was, himself, the Sovereign of 
Bucharia, who in this disguise had accompanied his 
young bride from Delhi, and, having won her love 
as an humble minstrel, now amply deserved to en- 
joy it as a King. 


The consternation of Fadladeen at this discov- 
ery was, for the moment, almost pitiable. But 
change of opinion is a resource too convenient in 
courts for this experienced courtier not to have 
learned to avail himself of it. His criticisms were 
all, of course, recanted instantly ; he was seized with 
an admiration of the King’s verses, as unbounded 
as, he begged him to believe, it was disinterested ; 
and the following week saw him in possession of an 
additional place, swearing by all the Saints of Islam 
that never had there existed so great a poet as the 
Monarch Aliris, and, moreover, ready to prescribe 
his favorite regimen of the Chabuk for every man, 
woman and child, that dared to think otherwise. 


Of the happiness of the King and Queen of Bu- 
charia, after such a beginning, there can be but lit- 


Lalla Rookh. 


379 


tie doubt ; and, among the lesser symptoms, it is 
recorded of Lalla Rookh, that, to the day of her 
death, in memory of their delightful journey, she 
never called the King by any other name than 
Feramorz. 


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